


Hear the Bells

by Goombella123



Series: Hear the Bells [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (well. sort of), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon Temporary Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Yuri Plisetsky, Fluff and Angst, Ice Powers, Knight Otabek Altin, Magic, Minor Character Death, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Slow Burn, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, fairy/hero au, non-graphic nudity, or slow freeze am i right ladies, teen rating for blood and also cause my yuri swears a fuckton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 62,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goombella123/pseuds/Goombella123
Summary: An AU in which Otabek is a mysterious traveler who dies alone in a forest, and Yuri is the fairy who brings him back from the dead... at a price.Neither is pleased about it.





	1. A harsh introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Porter Robinson ft Imaginary Cities- Hear the Bells.
> 
> EDIT: so this was originally a songfic without me realizing and when i did, i hated myself for it. god damn it. i fixed it so it isn't anymore, though.

He keeps riding.

 

He can’t stop. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten this far- how they haven’t caught up to him. But he doesn’t dare look back. Not for a second.

 

He doesn’t have to.

 

The pain is excruciating when it hits.

 

Frost creeps up through his chest and blossoms outwards, as piercing icicles that rip through his skin. Blood, and gory entrails- his entrails. His horse whinnies deafeningly as he’s thrown, hurtled off the back of it.

 

It has the sense to keep running without him, disappearing into the trees.

 

His head collides with the ground in a sickening crack, but he doesn’t feel any of it. The snow doesn’t cushion his fall at all, and it seeps red. Dark, deep red.

 

And then it’s over as frantically as it began.

 

 

Otabek doesn’t feel anything as he dies.

 

 

 

_Can't you hear the bells?_

 

\--- 

  

It takes all of two seconds for Otabek to register that something was very, very wrong.

 

He can’t move his legs. He tries to.

 

“Stop _wriggling._ ”

 

He freezes.

 

“…THANK you. Fucking _humans_.” A voice mumbles, annoyance dripping from every syllable of its tone.

 

It’s coming from… above him? Otabek can’t really tell, for several reasons- one being that his eyes are closed, and the sharp pain stabbing from behind them is keeping it that way. He doubts being able to see would help him, though. The voice surrounds his consciousness like it comes from every direction at once, envelops him in its bell-like tones.

 

 _Bells_.

 

Everything is fuzzy, hazed with crimson at the edges- and it hurts to even think. But Otabek does think, and it's with horror that he realizes-

 

He's missing all of his memories.

 

Well- that wasn’t entirely true. There were still a few things remaining in his head, and Otabek numbers them, to comfort himself.

 

Fact One. His name is Otabek.

 

…That one is obvious. He’s 19 years old. He can’t remember his family name- or his family, at all. Does he have a family? His past is just one painful _blank,_ whiter than the snow covering the ground, swirling all around and quietly melting into his skin- and he _knows_ that he’s missing things but for the life of him, he just can’t remember.

 

_Don’t panic._

 

  
Fact Two- the bells. Otabek has been looking for _bells_. For the voice of a fairy, because they chime like bells when they talk. They tinkle when they laugh and sing as they move. The fae are like that- while humans have lived alongside them for years, _centuries_ , they're known as tricksters. They use their magic to misbehave. And their idea of a joke is morbid.

For example: it is said to be terrible omen for a child to be born at the exact hour, for it’s a sign they are destined to be taken by the Fairer Folk. They disguise themselves in the sound of the Church Bells, crafty as they are. And another tale- children who are taken by the fae will be replaced by the fairy's own monstrous child. A _Changeling-_ that was what Humans called any kid who displayed fae characteristics. Anyone divergent- and it was used as an insult.

 

Otabek, personally, isn't a fan of it. 

 

Opinions aside, there's a moral that stands. _Always beware the bells._ Because fairies can't be trusted.

 

Otabek doesn’t remember why he knows these things, though. He’s thankful that he remembers who he is, but his brain screams at him with desperation- louder than it screams that he needs to get up and _mov_ e, because it's getting far too cold for his liking- that he’s missing something important. That there's someone he needs to be getting to, some place he needs to hide. Someone he needs to see, to protect.

 

And the bells keep ringing.

 

The bells mean he’s dying.

 

The bells mean a fairy has come to take his breath.

 

Fucking _wonderful_.

 

So this is how he goes, huh? His life, stolen away as he bled into the snow. Otabek was on his deathbed. Gods, everything ached so bad, so bad. The bells are _too loud_.

 

Otabek opens his mouth, intending to do- something. Cry for help?

 

“Oh _for fucks sake_!” the ringing voice cries again- and Otabek is stunned silent.

 

A hand clasps fiercely over his mouth, effectively shutting him up. It knocks into his teeth and jostles him on impact, and Otabek's eyes jolt open.

 

The man immediately regrets it- he’s assaulted by a bright light. The pounding in his head becomes searing, for a moment, and he winces- even after it fades into the cutting, winter air.

 

“Idiot.” a person says

 

And- oh. Otabek blinks in surprise.

 

It was a person. Otabek was being held by a person.

 

Not a fairy.

 

He inhales- but suddenly, his chest is on fire, and it's pure, white-light agony.

 

Otabek cries out- his head hurts in at least ten more ways than it did before, and he's sharper for it. He’s no longer drifting in his own consciousness, but that makes the pain of _whatever is happening_ a million times worse. 

 

But then, the person withdraws their hand from Otabek’s mouth. Their piercing green eyes boring through his skin, and as the fire in his chest mysteriously subsides, he meets their intense, hardened gaze.

 

Otabek coughs.

 

“Gross.” The eyes complain sourly. “But... I suppose this means you’re not dead. That’s a start.” they grumble.

 

Those green eyes crumple in concern where their words convey annoyance. It’s confusing- but then again, everything about this situation is. Otabek wheezes.

 

“Lucky me.”

 

His voice is gravelly and hoarse, like a man who’d gone weeks without water. Maybe he had- who knew? The person kneeling in front of him sneers, wiping their hand on their bare front with a mocking grin.

 

“You sound like shit.” they say.

 

“Thanks.” Otabek coughs again.

 

He doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger anymore, and the only pain he feels now is a light throbbing in his temples. Shaking his head to try and dispel it, Otabek takes the moment to observe his surroundings. He adds what he sees to the list of Facts that he has:

  
Four. He’s in a forest. There’s only a tiny clearing- enough to let a dim, afternoon sunlight wash over the canopy- and he’s backed up against a solid oak. Snow is scattered along the ground, some of it red. That’s his own fault, he supposes. It’s the only evidence of any disturbance here- the rest of the forest is pristine- nature, untouched by anyone besides him.  

 

Not even a fairy.

 

As he continues to look around, Otabek frowns at that part of the fact. He was _sure_ he’d heard bells before- but there are no signs of a fae for Otabek to speak of. Not even a ring of mushrooms, or a glyph in the snow. Gladly so, though- but the man is concerned to think of why the creature suddenly left him. He assumes (or maybe hopes) that Green Eyes scared them off.

 

(Green Eyes. The person with green eyes, who is now just Green Eyes. It's familiar in a way, so he goes with it.) 

 

And to speak of the devil.

 

Otabek’s eyes sweep towards Green Eyes. They're as much a part of the forest scenery as Otabek is. They look pensive- annoyed, maybe. A little person with a lot to say, but by their physique they look like a woman in her very late teens. Spindly fingers rest on their pale, curved hips, and their lips are turned upwards in a derisive sneer. The snow glimmers where it's dotted around the clearing, and the bite of the breeze makes the season clear.

 

“...You’re naked.” Otabek mumbles out loud. “In the middle of winter.”

 

Green Eye hears him, and their reaction is immediate.

 

“No fucking shit.” They hiss. “Why do you care? No one _else_ is here.”

 

“That’s exactly why I care.” Otabek replies.

 

The person rolls their eyes so hard that Otabek can almost _hear_ it, and they turn the other direction. He _really_ wishes they hadn’t- he’s got a full on view of their bare ass, should he look. He doesn't look. That would be rude.

 

“Can you please cover up?”  Otabek winces.

 

“With _what_ , asshole?” the person shouts.

 

“Leaves?” Otabek tries. He’s freezing just looking at them.

 

“Leaves.” Green Eyes deadpans.

 

Otabek shrugs.

 

“Unbelievable.” They mutter, and huffing, they begin to stomp off.

 

Otabek finds comfort in the fact that he’s well enough to nit-pick. And he finds comfort in the lack of concern that Green Eyes shows for his health. He finds comfort, too, in the list of Facts he’s compiled in the last couple of minutes, and that's a lot more solid of a foundation for what's real and what isn't than relying on some naked stranger to tell him what happened anytime soon.

 

Though it wouldn't hurt to try.

 

“What's your name?” Otabek calls after Green Eyes. They stop in their tracks when they hear him- not instantly, like they're considering their reaction heavily. And then, they turn heel.

 

Their face is carefully blank.

 

“I don’t have one.” They say flatly.

 

Otabek tries something else, then.

 

“Are you a man or a woman?” He asks.

 

And though it was a genuine question, Green Eyes outright  _laughs_ at him.

 

_Can’t you hear the bells?_

 

“Y’know, I’ve met plenty of dumbass humans before, but you? You’re taking the cake here, asshole.”

 

The tinkling noise stops, tapering off as the forest makes it echo. Green Eyes sighs as they stride back to Otabek, leaning down again. Consciousness fully returned, the man is able to make out a few more things about them at this close proximity.

 

Their hair, like spun gold that reached down to their shoulders, and the way it covered one of their piercing eyes. Their face is angular- and that goes for the rest of their body with their long limbs, delicate hands and rose-coloured cheeks. But there’s a quiet power under those features, and it’s more impressive than anything else about Green Eyes. Like glass. Fragile, but sharp on it’s edges. Willing to fight and bleed you dry.

 

It's worthy of awe.

 

“Who are you?” Otabek frowns.

 

Green Eyes leans in close to him- closer than when they had their hand covering his mouth- and they whisper in, voice low and vaguely threatening, those teasing on the high notes. A song of seduction in the chaste sense, but they're stringing Otabek along with their words, voice reaching into his heart and pulling at things he was only just finding out existed.

 

Like a spell, telling him to _trust them_. Or else.

 

“You died.” Green Eyes growls. “I saved your life.”

 

And they say that so matter-of-fact-ly that it barely causes a shock. Their breath creates steam from the freezing air around them, and it swirls, every time that they speak.

 

“Now follow me if you want to keep it. Can you stand?”

 

Against his better judgement, Otabek does as he’s told.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: hheyoo i was getting self concious abt the writing of earlier chapters so !!! 20/02/17. added like 500 extra words to this baby.
> 
> please enjoy the rest of the fic!


	2. Headache

He doesn’t ask where they’re going. It’s like he’s still in a daze, hypnotized by the forest and acting on instinct alone. As they walk, the the trees- the very air- grows darker around them, and it’s… not comforting. So Otabek adds to his list of Facts. Green Eyes hasn’t been very helpful with it, so far.

 

Fact Six. Otabek well enough to walk, despite an apparent injury causing severe memory loss and _death_.

 

Yeah. Green Eyes still hasn't explained the 'death' part.

 

It was an injury that made Otabek dumb enough to follow them, despite that. There’s no signs of cuts or bruises on him- in fact, Otabek is perfectly fine. A little sore and stiff from the cold, but fine. Especially compared to how he felt when he came to- the only evidence left that he was injured were the bloodstains left behind at the snowy foot of an oak, and the memories missing in his head.

 

\---

 

“You’re welcome.” Green Eyes says, seemingly out of the blue.

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow at them. They'd been walking for a good half an hour, now- enough that Otabek could sense a shift in time. And they hadn't spoken for the whole thing. Neither seemed to have wanted to. In Otabek's case, he was just exhausted. He was content to listen to the snowfall, to the clanking of his light armor as he walked and the crunch of his boots. But Green Eyes had other plans now, apparently- when they look over their shoulder to face Otabek, their grin falls.

 

“Wait, seriously?" they whine "I just told you I saved your life!"

  

“If 'just' means 'several minutes ago', sure. Besides-" Otabek says gruffly. "You don’t have anything on you.” Definitely not a vulnerary, or a staff. Nothing to stitch up a wound big enough to bleed a man to death’s door, no. Green Eyes didn’t even have _clothes_ on their back, and Otabek points this out when he says that they have nothing.

 

“HAD nothing." they clarify. "You gave me this!”

 

They pinch the collar of Otabek’s cloak. It WAS his cloak- now, it was draped over the blonde’s shoulders like an oversized, mottled green blanket. It’s torn and frostbitten, but it was better at covering their petite body than a _leaf_ would be. In the long, draping fabric, there’s a teal crest sewn into back, that neither Otabek nor Green Eyes seems to recognize.

 

Or, at least, they refused to answer if they did when they were asked. The symbol was damaged as badly as the rest of the cape in whatever freak accident caused Otabek’s situation.

 

“You could thank me for dressing you, you know.” The traveller points out. Green Eyes, and their lack of etiquette, was wholly unfamiliar to Otabek. They’d cussed in words the man didn't know existed in the span of the dragging twenty minutes he’d known them- and apparently their crude nature extended to their general manners, too.

 

“As soon as you thank me for saving you.” Green Eyes snickers. “I’ll thank you for your dumbass cloak.”

 

Otabek frowns

 

 

\---

 

 

“...I would like to know what _actually_ happened.”

 

‘Saved’ was far too vague for Otabek’s tastes. He needed clear answers. An hour passes, and he still has clue where they're going, nevertheless what's _going on_.

 

Green Eyes sighs at him when he asks- sucked in. It's Otabek's turn to initiate conversation, and they can deal with it.

 

“I told you." they say, and they're serious- if not a little exasperated. "You died. I saved your life.”

 

“But how _?”_

 

“I healed you.”

 

“With _what_?” Otabek urges. He's starting to sound like a song stuck on repeat.

 

Green Eyes turns to a stop.

 

"Well since you're a fucking dumbass AND an asshole, I'm gonna give you the lowdown. We fairies-" they say, and they stab at their chest with a thumb enthusiastically. 

 

Ah. That explains... a lot. And brings up more questions.

 

"-collect souls. More souls, more power."

 

"I knew that."

 

"Let me finish." Green Eyes growls. "Now- when a human dies, we can choose to use someone else's soul to revive them! Simple, right?"

 

"...Right?" Otabek tries.

 

"Wrong." Green Eyes spits. "Because I don't collect souls. I don't like humans in general, and yet you-" they cut themselves off, and shake their head, frustrated.

 

"I still had to give  _something_ , in exchange for your life." they say. They look away briefly- a flicker of something morose, before they steel themselves again and meet Otabek's gaze.

 

"I gave up my wings for you. And all of my magic. Happy?" they say.

 

In Otabek’s quiet mind, everything clicks. He's prepared to reply- except, the conversation seems to end there, for the both of them.

 

The green-eyed fairy turns away, to walk strides ahead of Otabek.  The man hadn’t missed the way they stumbled along the forest floor, but before he'd attributed it to the cold, or clumsiness. Not to it being because they were unused to walking.

 

At the very least, there's determination in their stride. Otabek supposes he admires that a little bit- the fairy's coarseness, and their bravado.

 

Even if it is obviously forced.

 

“Thank you.” Otabek calls after them, as he decides once again to follow. He adds- “For saving me.”, though it's also for bothering to explain. He has a feeling the fairy would've been content to pretend this never happened, if he'd let them.

 

From ahead, Otabek thinks he hears the fairy snort.

 

“You’re welcome.” They say, and, “Took you long enough.” under their breath.

 

They’re not facing him, but Otabek _thinks_ that they’re smiling. Maybe. At the very least, they’re not out to kill him- not that they ever were. But before, with their low words and promises and Otabek's fuzzy head, he'd trusted them, and hoped it wouldn't be misplaced.

 

He's glad that it's not.

 

\---

 

The Fairer Folk, Otabek had been told, were to be feared. So of course he was cautious of them- it was deep seated in him like frost, a trepidation, and despite his amnesia he can it always has been. But just the same, the fae also fascinated him.

 

Green Eyes, in particular, fascinated him- for their grace, for their glassy eyes. For everything that Otabek wasn’t and couldn’t be. They were beautiful, in the way that nature is beautiful. Wild, untamed and regal, all in the same breath.

 

In the now-fading daylight, Otabek wants to talk to them. For no particular reason other than to exchange pleasantries- or swear words, on their part. For lack of anything else, he murmurs into the ether.

 

“I feel like I owe you.” He says, and Green Eyes- sourly- replies.

 

“Don’t.” they say. "I don’t want your pity.”

 

Otabek frowns at them. But the topic shifts instantly, before he can pursue it.

 

“Do you care about where we’re going?” Green Eyes asks out of the blue.

 

Otabek shakes his head- not that the fairy sees him. “Whether I like it or not," he says "I don’t have a choice. I don’t have anyone to go back to.”

 

“...Not so dumb after all, then. Listen up-“

 

Green Eyes halts their travelling. The stand- they turn around, and they puff their chest out self-importantly. A confidant grin passes over their face, and their eyes glint.

 

“We’re going to track down my King." they say. "And when we _find_ that impulsive bastard and his Fair Realm, I’m going to beg for my wings back."

 

What in the fuck was a _Fair Realm?_

 

"I was looking for Viktor before I found you, actually." The fairy says quickly. Too quickly. "Uh- ask for your memories back when I see him! I-If you still need 'em.”

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow, sure- but he doesn't question their tone.

 

“I prefer my brain intact, thanks." he slowly deadpans. "Can he do that, by the way? The memories and the, uh, wing-thing.” Otabek asks.

 

The fairy shrugs, tension loosing from their body. “Uh. Probably." they say. "Never asked him if he could, and he never mentioned. That fucking geezer forgets shit constantly, anyway.”

 

Otabek cringes. 

 

"That’s your King you’re talking about.” he points out. He'll take rude- but Otabek doesn't take disrespectful.

 

The fairy doesn't care at all. Ringing fills Otabek's ears as they laugh, and it echoes, otherwordly. A light chiming like a cat's collar, or a tiny Christmas bell. Something... cute, Otabek thinks. Cute, though it really doesn't fit it's owner at all.

 

Otabek can't fault the fairy for their enthusiasm, though. Or their... _relaxed_ nature.

 

“I could threaten to murder that lovesick asshole and no one would even bat an eye.” they joke. 

 

Ah. Yeah. Fairies, typically, have a morbid sense of humor.

 

Otabek swallows.

 

“...What will happen if he refuses to give you wings?" he asks, steering the topic away from (hopefully) that of possible murder. 

Green Eyes shrugs again, now totally unconcerned.

 

“I’ll die." they say casually. "Hopefully someone'll kill me if they're feeling kind and put me out of my misery.”

 

Peals of laughter chime through the forest once more, and Otabek really, _really_ doesn't appreciate the death jokes. But of course, that's a mistake. Because the fairy seems to notice that Otabek is uncomfortable, and they meet his gaze, head-on, like a winter storm.

 

“Aren't you scared, human?” they snicker.

_Of you, or of this situation?_ Otabek thinks.

 

It’s a mostly rhetorical question, but Otabek replies- to both interpretations- with all seriousness, and honesty. The way that _he_ does things.

 

“Very.” he says. "And could you do me favor, please?"

 

"Hm?"

 

"No more death jokes."

 

 

 

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because new years day is the perfect time to update a fanfic. if theres any mistakes i'll fix em when im not dead
> 
> happy new years my guys
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: 16/01/17- minor edits to bring stuff more in line with later chapters, fix pacing, etc.  
> EDIT: 20/02/17- rewrote entire second second. god this chapter was bad originally


	3. Humans

It’s somewhat of an ordeal, trudging through the snow with a newly born human who forgets how their legs work six times in an hour.

 

The silence of the forest is permeated by the sheer frustration that Green Eyes vents, bare heels stomping determinedly along the frozen path- whenever they weren’t slipping.

 

“Fucking _Viktor_ \- dumb ass fate-bond-naming  _fucking_ _bullshit_ \- of COURSE he had to hide himself in the fucking _middle of nowhere_ and tell me NOTHING about where he and Katsuki went, not even a single-“

 

“You could tone down the swearing.” Otabek interrupts.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Their banter is mostly this. Has been for about a day.

 

Not that Otabek is complaining.

 

Green Eyes opens their mouth to continue their rant. But in the space it takes them to do that, their left foot crosses over the other, and they fall. Their protests are muffled- mouth crammed full with snow as they fall. Their bare feet go toppling right over their head, and they land face-first, legs stuck-out comically.

 

Otabek laugh even louder if he didn’t value his life, or his eardrums. He can hear Green Eyes yelling, and though its muffled, he’s sure the word is “fuck.”

 

\----

 

Otabek had established with the fairy that finding other people was their first, crucial step. Their first step, because Otabek had no clue where they were- and Green Eyes only knew places by the maps of their mind, and the patterns of the forest. Travelling through, and sleeping among the trees was dangerous for the both of them without weapons or magic to protect themselves. They needed to know where they were, and where they should head to. And maybe, if he was lucky, Otabek could find someone or something to fill out the spaces in his skull.

 

Sunlight was fading, and it only served to hasten their steps. Otabek kept up conversation to distract them both.

 

“Do you have a name?” he asks Green Eyes. A topic revisited- they sneer at him.

 

“I already said ‘no’. Names are for humans.” they say.

 

“Technically, you are a human.” Otabek points out.

 

Green Eyes groans.

 

“Don’t fucking remind me.”

 

Otabek sighs, never once letting up his pace.

 

“...You need a name.” he says. “I can’t keep calling you Fairy. Or Green Eyes. Not around other humans.”

 

The fairy snorts at that. “Why not?" they asks. "Those names are fine.”

 

“They’re not _names_. Not proper ones.”

 

The fairy tilts their head, amused.

 

“Then pick me a name, since you’re so fucking eager.” They say, feigning disconcern. They raise a hand to examine their fingernails, trimmed to a point and pristine- but painted black. Typical of a fairy, though the choice of color was more a personal choice of style for Green Eyes.

 

But- names. Otabek had insisted. And Green Eyes didn't seem to mind. So, he asks-  “Which names… do you know?” in hopes of gaining a suggestion.

 

Of course, the fairy is never helpful.

 

“Yours.” They reply instantly, “and one other.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Yuuri.” They trill.

 

“...Yuri?” Otabek repeats. He says it in a different accent to the blonde, but it’s the same name.

 

“Ya. Yuuri.”

 

 _Yu-riiiii_.

 

It’s fun to say.

 

“I like it." Otabek says, after some consideration. "It fits you.”

 

The fairy blanches.

 

“Oh no. No, nonono- that was NOT a suggestion-!”

 

“Yuri. _Yu-riiii_.”

 

Otabek drags the word  out with a roll of his tongue. The fairy- Yuri- groans at him, and covers their face. the tips of their ears, where they poke out from their golden hair, begin to turn red.

 

“Fucking _hell_.” they whine. “You sound like Viktor with his dumbass husband, when you say it like that.”

 

'Like that', Otabek takes to mean his drawing out the syllables. The way he said his name, intentionally, like honey. Because it did a funny thing to him, when he did. It make his tongue crackle and fizz, and dissolve into sweetness like he was holding sugar in his mouth. And Otabek liked the novelty of that.

 

So he smiles and says- “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

He hums as he falls in step with them- that is, with Yuri. _Yu-riii_. Heh.

 

“You can call me Beka, by the way.” Otabek says, without thinking. “Calling me  _Human_ isn’t necessary.”

 

Yuri _glowers_ at him.

 

“I don’t _want_ to call you by your name, let alone some _nickname_. Did you give that to yourself- _human_?” they sneer, green eyes diverted completely elsewhere as their arms swing in aggressive steps.

 

That's Otabek's cue to not push them furthur. Except he ignores it, and he does.

 

 _"Yu-riii."_ he calls. 

 

From Otabek's side, there’s a yell as Yuri suddenly stumbles to another fall. He can't help it if their new name is fun to say- the man huffs a genuine, ringing laugh, even as Yuri struggles to pull themselves out of the snowy ground.

 

“Is this going to be a regular thing? Falling over?” Otabek jokes. Yuri doesn’t reply- they're preoccupied. But they _do_ speak when they stand up, spluttering snow and dirt out of their mouth all the while. Their frosty cheeks colored rose.

 

“It depends on if you’re going to keep saying my name like that.” They mutter venomously.

 

 

\---

 

 

By nightfall, the two reach the town they saw in the distance. It has a name plaque over the entry gate-Otabek is pleased to find he can read the words adorning it.

 

“Did you know that this place was here?” Otabek asks out of curiosity, to Yuri.

 

“...No? Why would I?” The fairy mutters back.

 

They turn away. So Otabek continues reading the sign without them.

 

It says “ _Hasetsu- a place of pleasure”,_ and it's an old looking pkace. Empty looking, too- though some houses have smoke billowing up from their chimneys, and red-and-black charms written in a foreign script hanging from their doorways, blowing in the soft winter wind.

 

It's all around non-threatening, really- and yet, frost has a hold on this place. There's a sense, quietly, that not everything here is right.

 

But the sun is going down, and they have little else for choice.

 

 

\---

 

“Welcome.” a voice calls flatly. Decidedly _not_ welcoming, despite their choice of phrase. Another voice calls immediately after theirs; “Customers! Come in, come in!”- much cheerier than the first. Genuine, and full of life.

 

A short, chubby woman with round, perky glasses stands in the matted doorway of the inn, hands clasped to greet her guests as she bows. The other voice belongs a woman in her early thirties- the older woman’s daughter, perhaps? She sweeps the woven mat floors incredibly un-enthusiastically. Looking up from her work, she makes effort for eye contact with Otabek- though shes spares a long, hard glance for Yuri.

 

A shadow of recognition crosses her face, but no-one comments on it.

 

“You’re not from here.” The daughter says, voice slow and droll.

 

“We’re travelers.” Otabek replies- he raises his hand, and speaks for both him and Yuri. Mostly because he can tell the next word out of Yuri’s mouth was going to be a swear, or incredibly rude otherwise. “We need a place to rest. And eat. Is that alright?”

 

For all his efforts to keep them from speaking, Yuri hisses at Otabek with a sharp nudge to the man's ribs.

 

“Oi, _human_ -" they whisper. "Don’t you people use gold to get stuff? How are we gonna pay?”

 

...Good point, actually. Otabek lowers his arm, then- but the older woman perks up at his hesitation.

 

“Now, now-" she smiles. "Don’t worry about gold, dear! I know times are hard, especially for-“ She tilts her head at Yuri’s cloaked form, taking note of their bare feet and mussed hair, and their perpetual scowl. “...for folk such as yourselves." She finishes. "Traveler and refugees.” 

 

Yuri looks like they’ve recently fallen off a cliff, and they might as well have for all that they and Otabek have been through.

 

“That’s… we appreciate your generosity. Thank you.” Otabek says, and remembering his manners, he bows.

 

The older woman grabs Otabek by both of his hands when he does, though- hard, too. And he can’t help but feel nervous as she beams, for as warm as her smile may be.

 

“It’s been so _long_ since we’ve had people come through here!” She sings. She steps lightly, and then, she's twirling on her toes. Hardly a dancer, but she was excited- though why did she have to spin Otabek around, too?!

 

The man yelps in surprise- and the woman's daughter snickers from her place at the back. He thinks he hears Yuri laugh a little, too.

 

“Yeah, well." the daughter says, still sounding bored for her amusement. "With all the shit going on among the Fairer Folk, and -“

 

The older woman breaks the spin, and she shoots her daughter a sudden, warning look.

 

"-Mari, please.” 

 

She releases Otabek's hands, and plasters on a smile. 

 

“It’s no good to bring up these affairs around guests.”

 

While she was nice enough, the woman’s cheer was… too much, for Otabek. She _seemed_ to be a genuinely nice person, but the man couldn’t help but tense up at how her grin lit her whole face, almost falsely.

 

Hasetsu was far too empty, and the inn even more so.

 

“Ah! I forgot to introduce myself!" the woman suddenly cries "I’m Hiroko Katsuki!”

 

 She tilts her glasses and poses, fingers in a 'v' shape- and it makes her daughter roll her eyes.

 

“I’m Mari.” The daughter says from behind her. “Mom owns this place. These days, I’m her only employee.”

 

“Otabek. And this is Yuri. A pleasure to you both.” Otabek nods.

 

He doesn't expect Mrs Katsuki’s eyes to widen.

 

“Yuri?" she exclaims "Why, that’s my son’s name!”

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow when Yuri physically cringes. “It’s a common name.” They say.

 

That’s a lie. An interesting one. Maybe Otabek will tease them for it later.

 

Mrs Katsuki laughs, rolling with Yuri's statement. “Oh, it is, it is- but nothing about _my_ Yuuri is common.” she says

 

“Oh gods. Here we go-“ Mari groans- though secretly, she’s smiling.

 

“He’s married to the most _handsome_ man! We call him Vicchan-“

 

“-YOU call him Vicchan, and Yuuri hates it-“

 

“-he has the longest, most beautiful hair and gods! It’s like a RIVER of silver! I do I envy my son a for having such a gorgeous husband. He’s polite, too, and oh-so-thoughtful! Anyway, they don’t visit often, but when they do- ah! They’re so sweet together! My Yuuri is so lucky, and so happy to-“

 

“Mom, please" Mari interrupts. "Business first, THEN you can gush about your son-in-law.” 

 

Mrs Katsuki stops her excited babbling with a pleased sigh, resting her hand under her chin in contentment. From behind her glasses, she smiles deviously, and she coos.

 

“My apologies~” 

 

“W-we don’t mind it.” Otabek replies automatically.

 

“ _We?_ I mind it.” Yuri mutters, voice low from under their breath.

 

Otabek's reaction is to give Yuri a sharp, quick kick to the thighs, and they nearly double over from the unexpected impact. They shoot Otabek a withering look, and the man- internally- laughs.

 

Mari laughs not-so-internally, however. She holds her broom loosely in her hands, and it's clear that she's done no actual sweeping this entire time.

 

“Hey. Blondie." she calls out to Yuri. "I like you. Where are you two from?”

 

Yuri, as far as Otabek knows, isn’t ‘from’ anywhere. Otabek, on the other hand, had spent the last 48 hours barely remembering who he was. He opens his mouth to lie-

 

“Oh! But look, dear! On his cape!”

 

In a sudden movement- and Otabek blanches- Mrs Katsuki grabs Yuri by the shoulders. At their (very verbal) protest, she spins the fairy around quickly. When she does, her fingers reach out to brush the dirty cape- weathered fingers dancing over the symbol on the back. Her gasp, then, is loud and dramatic. 

  
Mari, from where she’s pretending to sweep, rolls her eyes. She finally abandons her broom, leaning it against a set of table and chairs.

 

“That cloak is disgusting.” She comments as she strides on closer.

 

Yuri mumbles sarcastically, facing away from her. “I know, right? Talk about tacky.”

 

Mari snorts.

 

“I don't... recognize the emblem." Otabek murmurs, ignoring the two. "Is it important?"

 

“I dunno." Mari chips in helpfully. "Mom- do you know what it is?”

 

In Mrs Katsuki's hands, the crest is faded into Otabek’s dirty, grey cloak. There are threads coming lose and fraying in its stitching, but still makes up an image of _something._ A symbol with a glowing, golden diamond at it’s heart. Twin winged horses adorn both its sides on a teal-colored background, and after a beat of examining it, Mrs Katsuki sighs quietly.

 

“...It’s the emblem of Almaty’s royal family.” She says, voice unusually worn, but Otabek still has no clue what that is, or what she means.

 

He realizes there's a kind of tense silence that has filled the inn. Mrs Katsuki looks pensive, at best- but her daughter's brown eyes are blown, wide open.

 

"You two didn’t... happen to have anyone _following_ you, right? Or hunting you?” 

 

“Mari!” Mrs Katsuki shouts. A slap to her arm, and Mari hisses.

 

“Sorry, just- being safe, Mom.”

 

Outside, nightfall had come upon them. The winter wind began to pick up with a howl, and it makes Otabek uneasy. Frost hasn't been his friend, lately. Mrs Katsuki shakes her head regretfully, and when she speaks, it's with a sigh.

 

“You boys…" she says, in wonder. "I’m not sure how you’re still alive.”

 

That's not a good omen. Mrs Katsuki continues explaining, without any request.

 

“The city of Almaty… fell, a few weeks ago.” The whole Royal Line is dead, as far as we know, and a bunch of Rebels came her looking for any survivors, too. It’s possible that few escaped, but-”

 

“-they’d all be hunted.” Mari finishes. “The Usurper King wanted everyone associated with the Kazakh Royals gone, and he was pretty dang thorough about it.”

 

It's concerning, but certain words ring bells to Otabek. None of it sounds falsified. The fear behind these women's eyes can't be faked, nor can the oppressive silence of Hasetsu be imagined.

 

“The Usurper…” Otabek thinks. He's not asking a question- and yet Yuri steps in to answer his pondering.

 

“He’s a fucking _prick, '_ s what he is.” they spit. “A real _shithead_ who’ll use his Rebel Army to destroy anyone in his way.”

 

Mrs Katsuki clasps her hands tight and nods, ignoring Yuri’s foul mouth.

 

“He's very dangerous.” She murmurs. "Before, it was rumored he had a whole platoon of fairies under his power. But now... the capital is empty of anyone who isn't human."

 

“His commander purged it.” Mari says grimly, folding her arms. “Real shitty stuff. It's thrown the whole fae world into damage control.”

 

“I… see. Where's Almaty?” Otabek asks. There's a lot of information there he's going to have to process, and he's not sure how much is relevant.

 

“Kazakhstan.” Mrs Katsuki replies. She shifts her feet, and frowns.

 

"It’s not safe there anymore, dear, if you're thinking of going. Especially not for anyone with this crest.”

 

Yuri is fiddling with the frayed hems of the crest-bearing cape, looking everywhere but at the people around them. They say- “Are we done here? Cause my feet are fucking _frozen_.”, and Mari snickers.

 

“That’s what you get for not wearing boots.”  she says.

 

“Shut it, hag.” Yuri instantly snaps at her.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is 0 reason in yoi canon for otabek to interact with Yuuri Katsuki's family, so at least i got this going for me. 
> 
> Yuri and Mari have a fun dynamic that i wanna come back to eventually.
> 
> last note- i'm using the names of real places, but everything else about them is fictional. get ready for fantasy canada. it's lit.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: 12/01/17. Rewrote some parts, generally just improved where i felt this chapter was lacking.  
> EDIT: 21/02/17. Cut out large chunks in an attempt to fix expo-dump (and delete outdated info, dear god.)


	4. Sister

 

_There’s not a lot he can do once the ice grips her form. Even the tears on her cheeks freeze in place as her whole body seizes. Sculptural ice. A curse of the cold. Otabek’s tears, unlike hers, flow unbidden- he screams, her name dropping like sleet from his bloodied lips._

_Her last words were “Run, Beka”._

_A kinder killer would have cut her throat and been done with it. A gurgling scream and a shower of blood would have been kinder than the slow death He caused her. Let her soak into the stone floor, hell- let them both. Get it over with so Beka doesn’t have to keep running like she told him to._

_But of course, He wasn’t that merciful. Otabek didn’t even know what he’d done to deserve this from Him._

_He supposes this is the burden taken by the royals of Almaty. When they were sworn in, they pledged to give their life to the country. And they had._ _The city falls like snow- quietly, but devastating._ _Otabek runs from the memory of her slow, awful death as much as he runs from any danger._

_But he can’t outrun the fae._

 

_He tried- oh gods, he tried, but he wasn’t masked well enough. It was too obvious where he was going, too obvious he needed to find her so she could protect him, teach him to protect himself. He was unsure if she even remembered him, but Otabek was desperate. He had no one else alive to run to._

_Their magic, icicles piercing his skin, and his horse abandoning him as he fell and cracked his skull- i_ _t wasn’t as bad as the pain of watching his half-sister freeze into a decorative corpse._

_It was worse._

_Because Otabek, as he died, could hear the bells._

_And a flash of green eyes pass over him._

 

\---

 

Otabek stares at the woven mat floor, and his bare feet, as he opens his eyes in a jolt. His boots removed, he examines them- blistered and battered from walking in armor. It isn't his bruised toes that are causing him pain, though. It's the ice. The blood, the death and _bells_ , bells ringing in his ears like the ringing that permeates each of his blurry, far-off memories.

 

And a dream.

 

“I… my sister.” Otabek murmurs. “I had a half-sister.”

 

Yuri pauses in their ministrations from the bed opposite his. The fairy was sowing, in a vain attempt at patching Otabek’s cloak. They sat clothed on the sheets in loose hand-me-downs, courtesy of Mari. The stitching was at her request, apparently, though the woman had initially advised that Yuri burn the cape. Teaching them a useful human skill seemed like a nicer alternative. Mari and her mother had been kind to the two of them, and accommodating of Yuri’s fiery temper and appetite- considering that they and Otabek were just temporary guests.

 

They treated he and Yuri like family, and that sat in Otabek's stomach like a rock.

 

“I’m better off not remembering what happened.” he mumbles all of a sudden, voice quavering and unsure. Yuri is boring holes into him with his eyes, he knows it- not because he can see, but because he can feel their green glow.

 

“...Human.” they say.

 

“ _Please_ don’t call me that.” Otabek shudders.

 

“Fine. Otabek. Tell me what’s wrong.” Yuri says, voice kept forcefully even and cold.

 

Otabek shields his face with his hands. He doesn't want to look them in the eye- their intense, powerful eyes.

 

Yuri takes offence to that- they huff. “Well _fine_ then, _asshole_. I’m trying to be _nice_ here.”

 

And though they spit, there’s no fire in their voice.

 

It’s more comforting than any reassurance. Timidly, Otabek unfolds himself. He hangs his head, though, letting himself slump between his legs.

 

“…Sorry.” Otabek mumbles, and at the useless apology, Yuri snaps.

 

“What the fuck are _you_ sorry for? You’re the one who was crying out for a good fucking ten minutes. Is this about that ‘sister’?”

 

They’re rambling, and as they do so, they lean forward intently.

 

“Tell me what's wrong before I kick you in the dick.” they threaten.

 

“I-“

 

Otabek stutters, and the fairy stares him down with a growl. He sighs- still refusing to make eye contact with Yuri. Instead, he looks at the floor, pretending like it's interesting. Mrs Katsuki called it  _tatami_. It’s a traditional material from her home country.

 

“A memory... came back, I think." Otabek begins quietly. "I didn’t...”

 

He pinches his nose, scrunching up his eyes like he has a headache.

 

“I didn’t like it.” he says, finally.

 

Otabek gathers the strength to glance up to Yuri- and they're giving him the shittiest look possible, right now. But it's kind of endearing.

 

“You really have a way with words.” Yuri says sarcastically.

 

“Sorry.” Otabek says again.

 

“Fucking _stop apologizing_.”

 

And that seems to be the end of it- Yuri huffs quietly, and they return to their sowing.

 

The whole tavern- or inn, rather- is silent at this point. Though it was quiet when they came in, but it's a more homely silence, now. Otabek can hear, if he listens closely, the soft bubbling of the boiling water on Mrs Katsuki’s stove, and the whispers of steam as it met cold air in the hot spring, fire crackling to keep it warm.

 

He hears, too, a tiny _yelp!_ from where Yuri sits- and the fairy curses. Otabek looks up, and watches them drop the needle and cloak in alarm, grabbing their left hand and staring.

 

“...What the _fuck is this_ ” they hiss violently, and Otabek tilts his head.

 

“What happened?” he asks.

 

“My thumb is… red." the fairy breathes. "And it fucking _stings_.”

 

Curious, Otabek rises from his position on the matted floors slowly, and approaches them. The fairy is staring at their finger with morbid curiosity, tilting it in the candlelight. It shines liquid red, beading from their fingertip.

 

Otabek tentatively reaches out for Yuri’s hand, and the fairy, dimly, lets him take it by the wrist.

 

“Is this…"  

 

They swallow, and they whisper.

 

"Otabek, am I bleeding?” Yuri asks.

 

"Yes."

 

Yuri makes a disgusted noise in their throat, and snapping out of whatever that was, they try to yank their hand back from Otabek's. The man shows no resistance.

  

“It’s not too bad.” He murmurs to Yuri. “Try sucking on it.”

 

A cautious frown, and Yuri complies. Though it's awkward to talk around the flesh of their thumb, as they lick it, Yuri mumbles angrily.

 

“Fairies don’t bleed." they say. "I shouldn’t... I shouldn't be bleeding.”

 

 

\---

 

 

In the morning they leave the inn, heading back into the forest with weapons and supplies.

 

 

\---

 

 

“What’s a sister?”

 

“Wh- huh?”

 

Yuri scowls. Their new shoes crunch unfamiliarly in the undergrowth. “What’s a sister?” they repeat. The breathy wind tugs at their half-mended cloak and oversized robes- the shirt slips down to reveal their collar, no matter how many times they pull it up, and the flat of their belly hitches up at the tug of their arms.

 

“A sister is... a part of your family.” Otabek replies.

 

“…Oh.” Yuri mumbles. "Ok then."

 

“Oh?” Otabek parrots, raising an eyebrow.

 

Yuri looks dead at him, scowling.

 

“Fucking smartass. Fairies don’t _do_ families. We aren’t ‘born’. Not like you." they say "We just... exist.”

 

“I knew that.” Otabek hums. He adds- “Family isn’t just who you’re born to, though.”

 

“I know that, too!” Yuri sneers in protest “But still- it’s a human thing. All this family shit.”

 

Otabeks shrugs. He's not an expert on the topic of family, so it's not exactly his place to argue.

 

The only the sound for a while is the crunching of snow between them, the whispering of the trees and snow swirling all around them. Looking away from Otabek, Yuri glides their forefinger over the bandaging on their thumb. A revenant motion, oddly tender compared to the rest of their demeanor.

 

“…Some fairies like to pretend.” They say.

 

Otabek tilts his head. "Come again?" He asks, for clarification.

 

Yuri scowls. “With families- some fairies like to pretend they're a family. Like Viktor." they say bitterly.  "He's always pretending he can be human for his dumb halfing husband. Or like- or like Chris.” Yuri continues. “He goes from town to town _creating_ half-fae like the fucking horny idiot he is. Cause a human broke his fucking heart and  he never-.”

 

The blonde shudders.

 

"...Whatever." Yuri regretfully trails off.

 

Yuri’s exotic-print boots leave tracks where they tread, armored parts clinking in time with Otabek. In the fresh, tense silence, Otabek is curious, and he asks-

 

“What about you?”

 

"What _about_ me?" Yuri scoffs.

 

Otabek hums, thinking of how to phrase the question.

 

"Do you try to play human?" 

 

Yuri snorts- an odd, barking laugh that left a sour taste in Otabek's mouth. His bells are venomous. 

 

“Never. I know what I am, and I keep my place.” Yuri says.

 

Otabek frowns a little, at that. He tests- “Were." he says. "Know what you were.”

 

Yuri doesn't like it when they're incorrect.

 

“I’m not a fucking human." they growl "I never _will_ be _.”_

_But you have a name, Yuri. You bleed. You wear clothes. You need to sleep and eat._

 

Otabek doesn't say any of it.

 

 ---

 

 

“Sometimes, I kind of wish I had a family.” Yuri mumbles out of the blue.

 

 

Otabek continues to walk. 

 

 

He wishes he had a family, too.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that clears out my backlog of chapters
> 
> kudos and comments are my lifeblood. i appreciate everyone who's given me feedback so far !
> 
> edit: i should pROBAbly mention that the idea of otabek having a sister (or half-sister in my case) was inspired by From Almaty, with Love- which, if you frequent the otayuri tags, i'm sure you're heard of
> 
> Check out my art tumblr for illustrations from this fic (and others):  
> http://goombellart.tumblr.com/post/155273043201/had-this-scene-stuck-in-my-head-since-i-wrote-it


	5. Abandoning Fact

Otabek found that sleep evaded him no matter where he laid to rest- at a traditional inn, or on the hard, cold ground. At least, in the forest, he had no need to dream of frost. Ice already surrounded him in every moment. How he managed to keep warm in this weather baffled him, but Otabek accepted it- like he accepted that his fate was now bound to Yuri’s. At least, until they reached King Viktor.

 

The fairy seemed unable to rest, just as Otabek did. Hasetsu had given them only the barest clue as to the Fairy King's location.

 

Having met Viktor’s in-laws must've meant that they were on the right path, at least. Otabek hadn’t bothered to press Mrs Katsuki or Mari for details on his whereabouts. He knew by the silence in the inn- and by the enthusiasm they were greeted with- that the place was as lonely as the rest of the town.

 

It had made him uncomfortable, and thinking about it still does.

 

Otabek wonders how long it's been since anyone had seen Viktor, or Mrs Katsuki's son. How long it’d been since Almaty fell- and did they fall with it? He couldn't imagine a person coping very well with not seeing their loved ones for so long. The man can count on his fingers how long it’s been since he met Yuri.

 

Though he gets the feeling- and it's a baseless feeling, but it strikes him anyway- that he's known the fairy for longer.

 

But he isn't about to ask them. His half-sister told him to run, and so run he shall.

 

\---

 

 

The fire casts flickers over the Yuri’s angular face, and Otabek watches the light dance over their features across from him. They stare into the flames, eyes all but vacant.

 

“...Do you know how to sleep?” Otabek asks them.

 

Yuri glances at Otabek, annoyed. Their eyelids droop for want of rest, though, but Otabek knows they’ll refuse it.

 

“For decades," they drawl "my whole existence was like sleep. As a human, I might as well be constantly awake.”

 

“That’s... melodramatic.” 

 

“Go away, Otabek.”

 

“If I leave, you’ll be lonely.”

 

“It’s a fucking expression.” Yuri quips with a yawn. They stretch, their too-small and simultaneously too-big shirt hiking up with their arms, to reveal their provocatively pale stomach. Otabek's cape remains draped over their shoulders, and they look like a prince- a prince illuminated by fire and ice, wrapped in a dirty old blanket that only _kind of_ smelled bad.

 

Otabek and Yuri have spent whole nights like this.

 

Back and forth, with equal parts silence, banter, and idle conversation. And Otabek, in his mind, wondering more than what he ever says out loud. Yuri sniffing, or muttering, or making crumbling sculptures out of snow for sheer boredom. Poking at the frozen ground in vain with a stick, or- once- sharpening the same stick to a point and attempting to stab Otabek in the back.

 

(it didn't actually hurt.)

 

It was peaceful when they didn’t talk, of course. But there was a lot that the knight wanted to say that he didn’t know how to express, and those things were what clouded his mind during the silences with Yuri. After the inn, the air was permeated by a tension so palpable it could be sliced, and it was only just starting to clear.

 

But it wasn't like they hated each other.

 

Not like on those firsts few days where Yuri acted like he hated Otabek, and not on those nights after the Katsuki run-in and Otabek’s nightmare. Hatred and anger could never be undone, but the threads of resentment can be dyed another color. It's more like... they're unsure. Both of them.

 

Otabek just can't gauge how far he can poke Yuri, before the stick begins to dig into their flesh and bleed, and they never talk to him again,

 

But he tries.

 

“How’d you make fire?” The man asks.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You don’t have magic anymore." Otabek points out. "How’d you light this fire?”

 

Yuri rolls their eyes at him, and they scoff.

 

“You didn’t think to ask that when I was _lighting_ it?” they criticize.

 

“...No?”

 

And then, Yuri smirks.

 

“Is this gonna be a thing with you?" they say. "Asking questions _after_ stuff has happened, instead of before?”

 

Otabek quips back.

 

“Like your thing with falling over?” he says.

 

Yuri splutters. They duck their head, though poking out of their golden-blonde hair, their ears turn red.

 

“...Jackass.”

 

But they laugh, too, and Otabek likes the sound of Yuri's bells.

 

When they slowly turn their head back up, they reach around themselves- before Otabek can ask what they're doing, Yuri reveals their hip, under the cloak. Pushing the fabric away reveals a brown pouch hooked to their belt on the left, and Otabek stares at it curiously.

 

“When… did you get that?” he asks.

 

“Mari, back at the inn.” Yuri faintly shrugs. “It’s how they kept the onsen fires going.”

 

Otabek frowns.

 

“With… pouches?” 

 

“With what’s _inside_ the pouch, Otabek.” Yuri says, smiling.

 

And- oh. He can hear the bells again.

 

There’s a name for this, Otabek thinks.

 

Amusement on their lips, Yuri unlatches the pouch and dips their hand inside, gently. Green eyes locking with Otabek's, they pull out- and the fairy snaps their fingers once, as their face splits into a satisfied grin.

 

A flame appears on the tip of Yuri’s reddened pointer finger.

 

“A Powdered Charm” they say. “Sometimes called Fairy Dust.”

 

They add, as an afterthought-

 

“Though I can confirm it is _not_ made of fairies.”  

 

It’s obnoxious, how they snort at their own joke. It's also amusing, so Otabek doesn't mind it, as Yuri continues to explain unprompted.

 

“This stuff lets you humans use magic, and that magic depends on the ingredients.” they say.

 

"And that one’s for fire.” 

 

“Yup.” Yuri says smugly. The fairy snaps their fingers again, and the flame disappears. “Y'know, I would've learnt this stuff sooner if I’d known that Fire Magic was this easy to use.”

 

They pause to re-latch the satchel, and blow the dust from their finger. They frown at something, and wave their hand as they rephrase their sentence.

 

“Well- easy to conjure. Fire is an  _ass_ to control in big batches, but I could totally do it. “ they brag/

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow- and as if it were a challenge, Yuri puffs out their chest.

 

“A lot of fae take decades to perfect their art." They shrug. "But not me.”

 

They shove a thumb at their chest and smirk. “ _I’m_ a born natural. Especially at manipulating Ice. The King’s hand-picked prodigy!"

 

It's easy for them to talk themselves up. And none of it is baseless. Still- Otabek knows they don't say things without reason. Yuri wouldn't be fanning their own ego just for fun.

 

So he pokes him with a metaphorical stick.

 

“…You miss it.” he says. "You miss using magic."

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

Yuri looks Otabek dead in the eye, then.

 

And he knows he's been seen through. Somewhat depressingly, the fairy's smirk fades, and they slouch in their seat.

 

“...Yeah." they murmur. "Very much.”

 

It’s his own fault for asking, but it sends a chill through Otabek. He thinks- he can make it up to them by protecting them, or something. Anything- but this doesn't feel great. He wants... he wants to be Yuri's friend. Or something. Because this is nice, in a weird way. Having a travelling companion, and maybe there's a part of Otabek that's enjoying their bad attitude, freezing walks and the low, long setting of the winter sun.

 

But deep in his heart, Otabek really wishes he hadn’t met Yuri like this. He wishes they would have had the chance to get to know each normally, when Otabek had his old, forgotten life and Yuri didn’t have to regret saving it. Didn't have to sacrifice something he loved for Otabek.

 

It seems out of the blue, but Otabek feels the need to apologize.

 

He doesn't, though. Yuri would've told him not to, or otherwise.

 

 

\---

 

 

There were a few truths that Yuri had come to in the past week or so.

 

Most of them were about his- (ah. that's what Katsuki used, so he'll use 'him') feelings towards being stuck as a human. Many were about how much he fucking hated Viktor for not letting Yuri- his own protege!- know where he is. And the other truths and feelings were about how much he resented Yuuri Katsuki for making his family worry about him. Again.

 

That boy needs a fucking reality check- he's going to outlive the humans he cares about, and he needs to be spending more time with them. Idiot.

 

Yuri’s other thoughts- outside of the above- tended towards their missing wings. And those thoughts were always disgustingly dsyphoric.

 

It felt gross to be covered with torn and, frankly, disgusting clothes at all times- back at the inn, Yuri had run his hands down his back and shivered at the bareness of it, how fucking _wrong_ it felt. God- he wishes he could just... stay naked. It’d be better than looking hideous in these hand-me-downs, even if he did feel the cold now and his human flesh wasn't partial to freezing.

 

Although- admittedly- the leopard fur boots he had stolen from Mari were… cool.

 

Yuri wasn’t used to any of this, and the feeling made him really, really uncomfortable. He wasn't used to not having a spell at his fingertips at all times, planning step sequences in their head and training with ice fundamentals every day. Yuri missed feeling powerful. He's... unsure how he feels, now, about the other aspects of being a fae. But the buzz that he got from the ice- he craved it more than anything, and it's the one thing he can't obtain.

 

But it got easier.

 

Once Yuri was accustomed to the feeling of being alive- of warm skin, of bleeding and having things hurt, of being tangible and being with other people- it got easier to accept his weakness. After all, he’d seen first-hand how magic could hurt, in so many more ways than one. It was nice for Yuri to not worry about it every second of his existence, for a change. _Not_ being locked in a constant battle of wills with himself was honestly a fucking improvement- all things considered.

 

But of course, Yuri had just finally begun to accept their new life, when the Ice returned. And of course, the Ice had the fucking _nerve_ to hurt Otabek.

 

Of course. _Of-fucking-course._

 

_\---_

 

The night air was already chilled, and the fire that Yuri’d set was burning steadily- Yuri was proud of that fucking fire, and it took Otabek an _hour_ before he asked about it- god, he's dense. Even if it wasn’t all him, Yuri had a motherfucking _right_ to boast about his apparent new talent in controlling Fire. His charm-born flame was high enough to keep both Yuri and Otabek warm, on this bone-chilling winter's night.

 

And yet.

 

Otabek’s whole body was shivering. Despite the flames Yuri had lit. He could see from where he sat, poking at embers with a stick, on the other end of the campfire. It's not like he's concerned- not really- but then Otabek groans, and Yuri remembers his nightmare at the inn and recognizes it.

 

He cautiously approaches Otabek, who’s sleeping form begins to write.

 

“Otabek…? Hey, Otabek. Can you hear me?” Yuri whispers.

 

Otabek’s only response is another groan- of what sounds like pain.

 

Otabek hisses through his teeth on the floor, still unconcious, or asleep. His hand shoots out to clutch at his chest- where once, a pillar of icicles had pierced through his flesh, staining him red. He grasps at the old, invisible wound like it was fresh, and screams- loudly.

 

Yuri quickly jumps back.

 

Then- without so much of a warning- the campfire goes out. The winter wind howls around them, deafening in the fairy’s ears, nipping at the edges of his gritted cloak and twisting it around him violently. Otabek’s shaking stills- and for a moment, a terrifying, awful moment- Yuri thinks he might be dead.

 

 _Gods_ _fucking_ _help him_  if Otabek was dead.

 

Delicate hands tremouring as he kneels, Yuri gulps in air, deeply. Hesitantly, he reaches to feel for Otabek’s pulse.

 

It’s there, thank the fucking gods. But there's no sigh of relief.

 

Otabek’s skin is frozen. Literally. He's frozen.

 

Frantically, Yuri glides their hand up from the knight’s neck to his cheek- his cold, white-webbed cheek. He rest his touch on the man's face with both hands, and Yuri holds him gently- fearfully tracing circles with his left thumb, catching over stubble with each snowflake pattern forming on his skin. 

 

“Otabek- wake up!" Yuri calls, shivering. "It’s just a nightmare!"

 

Otabek is in pain- so much _fucking_ pain, and Yuri can see it, can hear it in the noises the man makes every couple of seconds. His face is contorted with it agony. And from under his fluttering eyelids, water begins to spill.

 

So Yuri tries a different approach. His hands never still.

 

“Otabek, listen to me!" He yells. "Wake the _fuck_ up, right now! This isn’t real! You're being _fucking ridiculous!_ ”

 

The knight retches suddenly, and Yuri releases him. It's a reaction, at least, but Otabek is...

 

Otabek is _scaring him._

 

They say this isn’t real. And yet, there’s the stunning reality before him, and it’s making his chest knot and twist like a snowy whirlwind.

 

From under their hands, the liquid on Otabek’s face had begun to freeze.

 

“Fuck. _Fuck_!-“

Still fitfully unconscious, Otabek barrels his free hand onto the ground, clenched fist gripping at the soil like a fucking lifeline. Mud curls it’s way under his nails as he tears at it. And the ground- the ground is turning to solid ice from beneath him. Patterns forming from under his hand like a snowflake, like the ones covering his skin. He won’t stop shivering- he’s cold, he’s so cold, and Yuri can feel it just by looking at him- he's quivering in his boots, and his heart is pounding in time with Otabek’s screams of sheer agony.

 

And then suddenly, he's grabbed.

 

Eyes closed, and body still wracked with pain, Otabek reaches out with his hand not clutching the ground to grab a hold of Yuri. He’s got the fairy’s arm in a death-grip, fingers shaking as frost spirals down them and spreads from his calloused fingers to cover Yuri’s skin. Like a tattoo that burns into his flesh. Sharp and painful and _cold_ , it forces Yuri’s eye’s shut.

 

That was his magic.

 

The Ice he was born with, and had claimed to miss when Otabek asked him. Beautiful and deadly, captivating and terrifying.

 

Absolutely _fucking_ terrifying.

 

Deep in his heart, Yuri wishes they hadn’t met like this.

 

 

\----

 

 

The knight stares at the frozen ground where he’d slept like it was a corpse. With abject horror, and with fear.

 

Yuri hadn’t re-lit the campfire. Otabek hadn’t asked them to. It was just the two of them- a cold Knight and a weeping Fairy, a world away from the world. Yuri was Otabek’s lifeline as much as Otabek was theirs, in this moment. They clung to him like a child, sobbing into their cloak, wrapped around the pair like a ramshackle blanket.

 

Otabek had made Yuri cry.

 

He didn’t mean to, but Otabek had made them cry. The fairy had never looked so vulnerable- scared, maybe, but never vulnerable- for all of the short time that Otabek had known them. Their tiny body held far too much strength within it to ever seem truly breakable.

 

Except they _were_ breakable, and Otabek was the one to shatter them.

 

Their sobs consisted of hiccuping, and the words _“i’m sorry, i fucked up, i‘m sorry-“_ repeated ad nauseum.

 

_What were they sorry for?_

 

Otabek didn’t ask. He had the feeling that Yuri wouldn’t tell- not tonight. There was so much that Otabek wanted explanation for. It involved Ice, and screaming, and a lot of pain, though. That was all that Otabek knew, and it wasn’t very different to the rest of his life so far.

 

He thinks he hears Yuri choke- _“I thought you were gonna die, I didn’t want…“_ \- and it’s all Otabek can do to not start sobbing himself.

 

He holds Yuri closer.

 

The knight was freezing to the touch. Yuri warmed him where they pressed into his form, but the rest of Otabek was like an icicle in of itself. The same nausea that accompanied every nightmare he’d had swirled around in Otabek’s head like a blizzard. It’s dizzying, and to keep himself sane, he recounts his Facts- unreliable and uncomforting now, but real enough he could trust them- with a trembling breath.

 

His puffing doesn’t create any fog when he exhales.

 

 His name is Otabek.

 

He had a half-sister, and she had, however long ago, nicknamed him Beka.

 

That sister was frozen to death by… someone. Presumably the same person who killed the rest of Almaty’s royals, the Usurper King- and killed Otabek when he tried to escape.

 

A fairy brought Otabek back to life.

 

He named the fairy Yuri.

 

(And Yuri had fallen asleep on Otabek, eyes fluttered closed and face blotchy from crying. There’s not a lot of light to see with, but Otabek does- and he captures the moment in his memory to keep, for a reason he can’t discern.)

 

The knight had been looking for a fairy before he died. He was hurt badly, but he can remember the sound of Bells. Nothing else, because Otabek is missing all of his memories.

 

(except for the things he’s listing here, of course.)

 

He’s an unobservant person. He laughs like a seal, whatever that is. Yuri says it’s an aquatic animal. He’s not sure what kind, because Yuri had snapped that they weren't a _‘smartass like you’_ and didn’t classify animals like _‘a fucking encyclopedia in my head’_.

 

(Yuri balls their fist into Otabek’s chest as they sleep, and his stomach does a flip because of it. Nothing can hurt them.)

 

He liked to number and order things, especially the things he kept precious. He values his clothes, and his life, and he values... Yuri.All of the thing she has now, are because of Yuri-because Yuri chose to save him when easily, they could have cast Otabek aside and moved on. Because Yuri dragged Otabek with him on their own desperate quest despite hating humans, and a little over a week into it Otabek found himself not wanting anything else than to help them find King Viktor.

 

He didn’t care about getting his memories back. Not anymore.

 

In some ways, Otabek was content with what he had.

 

\---

 

“…I really wish we hadn’t met like this.” Otabek murmurs into Yuri’s hairline. He runs a hand over the fairy’s back, and they tense at his cold touch- like he’d jolted them awake.

 

They murmur with a heavy tongue, though, when they reply to Otabek. He can hear the magic in their slurred words, like the bells in their laughter- except it’s in every part of them, now, and Otabek listens, reverent.

 

“Me, too.”

 

 

The sound of bells used to terrify Otabek, not too long ago.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my fave chapter that i've written, and it makes me realize that my reasons for disliking the first few fall under 'too exposition-y with little description' and 'motives unclear for the characters'. I think this chapter fixes the second issue somewhat, with Yuri dragging Otabek along as somewhat of a bodyguard because they think that they're weak as a human.
> 
> i'm glad that all the set-up is over and i can start diving into the meat of this fic tho. writing this chapter was great, and im p sure its the longest so far?
> 
> @ otabek: stop repressing ur issues !!! god!! if yuri can accept things why cant you!!
> 
> EDIT: 24/02/17: fix the pronoun fuckery in yuri's pov. holy fuck this chapter was a mess


	6. Magic

 

Yuri doesn’t mention that night, once morning rolls in.

 

Otabek figures they were embarrassed, since at some point, the fairy had gotten up to sleep elsewhere. 'Elsewhere' being 'anywhere that wasn’t basically on Otabek’s lap'- the man wouldn’t have minded, it, though. Given the circumstances.

 

Still. The sun rose without fanfare, spreading roses over the horizon, and they were travelling partners. Together, but separate.

 

It's early to mid-morning when Otabek wakes up- and Yuri is all but silent. No teasing or insults- just quiet. Melancholy. Yuri stares at the pink-stained sky, dark clouds of snow beginning to form over the hue. Otabek had thought they’d be ready to burst from their appearance, but they wouldn’t. Today felt calm, and reflective. Like a frozen pond, or something equally as still.

 

The man rubs blearily at his eyes, and he kneels to fetch his breakfast supplies out of his pack.

 

“No food.” Yuri snaps, from where they sit.

 

Their face is turned away in a pout, a hand resting under their chin. Otabek stops, and stares at them.

 

“…Why?” he asks.

 

“No food.” Yuri repeats quietly. “We’re not going anywhere today.”

 

Otabek doesn’t see how his need to eat and walk are related, but he listens, and momentarily abandons his pack. He rises from his knees to stand, limbs creaking from morning stiffness. His joints aching from the cold ground and his experience with ice, but they'll loosen up in time.

 

“What do you have in mind?” he says.

 

 

\---

 

 

 Yuri had spent a good portion of that dawn and the morning dragging Otabek around the forest. It certainly… felt like travel, considering they’d brought their camp with them. “We need somewhere flat.” Yuri’d said “For what I wanna do, the place has to be perfect.”.

 

The fairy had refused to elaborate on _why_ , and Otabek, as per usual, hadn’t asked.

 

By some miracle, Yuri'd found what they were looking for- after almost half the day’s light had been spent, and Otabek had ignored their 'no food' warning and dug into a hardened bread roll from his pack.

 

But they were here, now, and as Yuri cackled with pride in their skill for finding it, Otabek observes. He sees that this place is a clearing- on the edge of a cliff face, and the two had walked up quite a large hill to reach it. It was more like a plateau in the middle of the forest, really. A wide, flat rock- like a stage- in the center. Mystic carvings traced the sides of the stone leading up tot the level top, and said top was totally unblemished- it really was almost alabaster smooth. By the drawings, and the unatural texture of the stone, Otabek figures this must be a Fairy Place.

 

Which normally, one would be encouraged to avoid. But it seems safe enough here.

 

Yuri had left Otabek to snoop around the plateau, inspect every part of it- their righteous boasting tapering off, and boots stomping, they return just a minute later with a chalky, white rock.

 

Yuri takes it, and bends down.

 

They rock back on their heels, and curiously, Otabek watches them draw a square on the smooth stone. They make a cross through the markings, from all four corners of the shape- and Otabek tilts his head at it.

 

“A sigil?” he asks. 

 

“Kind of." Yuri shrugs. "Take your armor off. And your shoes.”

 

The fairy stands up and unclasps their cape as they say this- letting the fabric fall from their shoulders and drop to the ground, as if demonstrating. After a moment of considering it, they hesitantly removed their printed boots, too- leaving them and their pouch in a neat little pile on the ground, just a few steps away.

 

“This must be serious if you’re taking those off.” Otabek jokes.

 

“They’re leopard print, fucker.” Yuri snaps, folding their arms. They say it like it explains everything.

 

“...Right.”

 

Otabek doesn't know what a leopard is.

 

 Nonetheless, the two of them stood. The plateau was quiet, looking out to the rest of the forest and a brooding, black winter sky. It was a rather scenic view, if one enjoyed looking at mountains and a sea of endless trees. Otabek could spot a plume of smoke from one of those mountains, though. He considers pointing it out- but Yuri catches him.

 

"That's probably Almaty." they say.

 

"Really? It's that close?"

 

Yuri nods.

 

"A hell of a long ride, but you can see it, at least. Small world we live in."

 

Otabek hums thoughtfully, agreeing.

 

"It is."

 

“Anyway-.” Yuri claps their hands, all of a sudden- and Otabek twists around.

 

The fairy commands his attention with their voice alone- and though they're loud and demanding, they fiddle with the hem of their pants. And, seemingly, they're refusing to make eye contact.

 

They do look up once, though- to gauge whether Otabek had responded. And when the man doesn’t reply immediately, Yuri snaps at him.

 

“W-well?" They say. "Aren’t you going to ask why I dragged us here?”

 

“…No?” 

 

“Oh for fucks sake-"

 

They pinch their nose, rubbing the bridge absentmindedly.

 

 

"I’m teaching you magic.”

 

And Otabek stills.

 

“...Is this-“ He begins.

 

“Because of last night?" Yuri finishes. And- "Yes, it is. You scared the fucking _shit_ out of me, Beka, and I'm not letting that happen again.”

 

 _Beka,_ Otabek thinks.

 

A sharp bite of wind passes over the plateau. Otabek knows, because he sees Yuri feel it- nose turning red, and shivering. The cold doesn’t bother Otabek anymore. It hasn’t bothered him since he woke up to Yuri practically dragging him by the arm into the forest, and he figures it explains a lot about him. His apparent talent for Ice Magic.

 

He kind of wishes that he remembers where he got it.

 

Wrapping their arms around themselves, Yuri murmurs into the ether.

 

“This is me making it up to you, ok?” they say.

 

Otabek doesn’t think that Yuri has to make up for anything, actually- but if it makes them feel better, he’ll let them. It takes them a moment before Yuri speaks again, after his concurrence- like they weren't expecting it. Or like, they’re trying to work out exactly where to start.

 

Otabek is patient, though. And like always, he doesn’t really mind.

 

“Learning magic is like… well. It’s is like learning to talk to people.” Yuri begins.

 

Otabek raises and eyebrow.

 

“… Because I’m bad, even though I practice?” he guesses.

 

Yuri pauses.

 

When Otabek’s words register, they suddenly- startlingly- laugh. The tension of beginning is magically gone with the ringing of the bells. But it really wasn't that funny of a joke.

 

Otabek smiles, though. Yuri continues- “Sure," they chuckles. "-but no."

 

They finally compose themselves.

 

"I just think it’s best to see learning magic like... learning a new language. Keep that in mind, ok?” they command.

 

“Yes, sir.” Otabek mock-replies. Yuri snickers, and Otabek- again- can't help but smile with them.

 

“Now! I want you stand in the grid I drew.” Yuri points to it, and Otabek wordlessly complies. He steps into the square, and after a moment, looks to Yuri for further instruction. The fairy rolls their eyes.

 

“I said _stand."_ They clarify. "Not 'hunch over like an _old man'_.”

 

“ _You’re_ not hunched over.”

 

“Not the-" Yuri stops, and splutters "-did you just call me  _old_?” 

 

Then Otabek laughs out loud. Hearty, right from his chest- and Yuri, though pretending to be insulted, inhales deeply, and breathes out again.

 

They’re trying to not laugh, too.

 

Despite that, Yuri stalks over to the grid and stand a little ways in front of it- about a meter, directly ahead of Otabek. And it's when they pause to take position, but two strides away from Otabek, that Yuri transforms.

 

Tension releases- and with their eyes closed, Yuri’s back pulls straight, and their body goes tight- yet loose at the same time. Their head- no, their whole body- is held high, chest puffed out with an air of pride. With nobility, and a honed sort of natural grace.

 

“Back on track." they say. "I want you to stand like this-“

 

Yuri demonstrates

 

“-and hold your arms like so.”

 

They pull their heels in until they’re touching, toes turned out and arms in front of them like an oval. Otabek mimics. He thought he'd done it right- but then, he hears the fairy tut, as they break pose to correct his feet.

 

“…Not bad, considering. This is First Position.”

 

_Considering...?_

 

“How many positions are there?” Otabek asks.

 

“Five." Yuri replies. "Sometimes seven, but five basics. They’re the ones you need to know. Remember how I said that magic is like a language?”

 

Otabek nods- he swallows when Yuri pushes their bangs out of their face, tucking their hair behind their ear. They blow away an errant strand with a mutter of _wish I brought a hair-tie_ , and it does all sorts of things to Otabek’s empty stomach- seeing both their brilliant, glass-green eyes like that.

 

“These positions are like… your vocabulary." Yuri explains. "Each one is telling the magic how to move, and what to do.”

 

They stretch out an arm as they talk, feet shifting to face diagonal from each other.

 

“A dance is like writing a sentence with the positions, for the magic to read and transform into what you want. How you execute the dance is like… uh, like doing a dumb voice when you read the sentence. Or something.”

 

Yuri frowns and taps their lips in thought.

 

“When I put it that way it sounds dumb, but I’ll work on it. The rest is solid.”

 

Otabek chuckles, then.

 

“Whatever you say, Yuri.”

 

Yuri almost blushes.

 

Which is why they huff suddenly- and lift their whole body until they’re standing on their toes, arms outstretched. _How’d they do that so quickly?_ Otabek thinks _-_ and Yuri completes a spin, transitioning once the rotation is complete into the position that Otabek was holding.

 

“A spell is just an outlet for your innate power.” They say. Their voice holds the strength of another, and Otabek guesses that if Yuri had an instructor, these were their words. “They are a set of rules- a list, that tells your magic what effect it has, and _how much_ of an effect it has."

 

A scowl, and they're back to regular Yuri.

 

"In other words- this language metaphor bullshit is important. Got it?” they yell.

 

“...Are you sure you’re not just teaching me ballet?” Otabek quips.

 

His legs are beginning to feel sore from the awkward positioning.

 

Yuri blinks. They break form, arms drooping dramatically.

 

“Right now, I can _only_ teach you ballet." they say seriously. "Releasing magic is dangerous when you can’t control it, and without my own, I can’t…“

 

They trail off. And their whole body seems to physically deflate, then- the haughty pride of a ballerina stepping aside for… this. Whatever emotion cast shadows over Yuri’s face, and made them seem old and somber. More mature than they should be.

 

It’s mixed with so many things. Otabek wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what would help. But fortunately, for the both of them, the moment passes quickly. Yuri recovers in it's wake, and takes in a deep puff of breath.

 

 “This was safer to do first.” They say stoutly. “That’s all. Yeah. Now! Onto Second Position-“

 

\---

 

The two spend their day going over the positions and drilling them. Once Otabek could perform them from memory, Yuri has him use the grid to learn Alignments; where to place his feet and turn his body when he casts. There’s a surprising amount to learn from them, but Otabek soaks up the information as best as he can.

 

He hasn’t done any actual spell-casting, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuri he feels Ballet won’t help him. Because Yuri made it look so easy! So graceful with their movements- effortless, like it's as natural as breathing. Otabek feels like a fool, trying to mimic them.

 

And besides- whatever power slept within the knight seemed to only show itself upon it’s fickleness. And even _if_ Otabek knew how to cast, who’s to say that he wanted to use it? He and the Ice weren’t on good terms, as of late.

 

But Otabek can’t refuse Yuri.

 

A chance to breathe was… nice. For the both of them. No matter what they were doing. And it was nice to see a different side of Yuri. A side that was a little less grumpy- one that had a purpose in pursuing their passions.

 

Otabek can tell they're passionate. Whether they’re demonstrating or not throughout the hours, they dance, as if they can't help it. A secret little step, or a lift onto their heels- a leg stuck out into an ‘arabesque’, or a twirl with arms outstretched. They’re miniscule movements, hoping that Otabek won't notice. But the man always does.

 

He thinks he would compare Yuri right now to... an artist. Doodling on their page instead of painting in wide strokes- painting what they really felt without hesitation. Yuri's still not completely open enough to show Otabek all of them, but these snippits- the metaphorical sketches- are things he appreciates.

 

But it's Otabek. And in all honesty, he wants to see Yuri create a masterpiece.

 

“You should dance for me.” he says.

 

…He didn’t mean to put it that bluntly, though. Yuri freezes in position. Their feet are crossed in Fourth, and their arms raised the same way, parallel to each other. They drop at Otabek’s statement.

 

“I’s not the same without my magic.” they mutter. “I can’t.”

 

“I’ve been dancing without magic this whole time.” Otabek points out.

 

“It’s just- not the same!” Yuri shouts, more out of frustration. They rub at their eyes, and they sigh- folding their arms over their chest in annoyance.

 

“Whatever." they grumble. "You wouldn’t get it.”

 

Frost and guilt feel a little similar.

 

The knight scans his gaze over the plateau with staring eyes, passing over the trees- over Yuri, to their things. Yuri’s pouch lays with their belongings. It catches Otabek’s attention, and as he walks over to it, an idea forms in his head.

 

“This is a kind of magic.” he propositions.

 

Otabek tenderly lifts Yuri’s pouch in his hands, and the fairy casts him a lone, sour glance.

 

“Yeah. We _established_ that.” They say, extremely sarcastically. "What’s your point?”

 

Otabek holds the pouch out, and shakes it a little. Like he’s asking Yuri to come get it. 

 

“This could work.” He suggests.

 

“No." Yuri says instantly.

 

Otabek licks his lips.

 

"...Why not?"

 

"It’s fire.”

 

“Still- it could work. Please?” Otabek tries.

 

He's never had to ask 'please' from Yuri before.

 

Yuri’s eyes seem to mull it over. They lift one of their crossed arms to rest under their chin- and after a moment, Otabek has his answer.

 

“I need my Ice for what I normally do." Yuri says. "But I think… I could make this work. With some adjustment.”

 

And Otabek all but beams.

 

“I like your spins." he says timidly. "...Do one of those?”

 

He never means to make Yuri blush, but it's fun when he does it.

 

“T-The arabesque?” Yuri clarifies- all but snatching the pouch from Otabek's hands. They unlatch it, and dip both hands in it. Spreading the powder over their palms with long fingers, and Otabek follows the movements with his eyes.

 

“Yeah. That one.” he says.

 

Yuri hums.

 

“Beka." they call. "Lean down for a sec.”

 

_Beka, again._

 

Otabek hesitates, and it makes Yuri frown. “Lean down, _please_.” They urge- as if being polite for once will win them any favors. Otabek just needed a second to process- he squats awkwardly, per request.

 

And before he’s even halfway to the ground, Yuri’s leg comes crashing onto his shoulder.

 

The weight of it is weird and vaguely uncomfortable. But before Otabek can question what the fairy was doing, they reach down to the tip of their toes and paint a stripe of red dust up their calf-stopping at their decently muscled thigh. Their fingers trace the movement, and the sun makes the magic glitter.

 

Otabek swallows.

 

Yuri grunts once they're done, and they take their weight off Otabek's abused shoulders. Where the dust sits upon their body, they sparkle in anticipation. And anticipation there is aplenty- Otabek watches them take position, arms open at their sides, and head tilted down.

 

But their eyes tilt up for a second, and meet Otabek's- confidant, and yet it's like they're about to bare their soul.

 

“Watch me closely... ok?” they whisper.

 

Otabek can only nod. He has been.

 

With a second of passing time, Otabek can almost hear in his mind a tune. The heart-pounding allegro of a piano, and it soars when Yuri suddenly begins to move.

 

The fairy kicks up one of their legs and throws each arm across their body. They spin- and that’s when the magic reveals itself. From their hands, and from their outstretched foot, a streak of flame appears and encircles them. Completing the spin with the roll of imaginary piano keys, Yuri folds their left arm over their body, and their right points out. The lilt of their hand causes the flame to burst- a shower of light like a miniature firework.

 

Yuri smirks.

 

They perform what they called a 'passé de bourré' on their toes, like a violin- soaring over the plateau when Yuri leaps. The quick movements of their feet causing sparks. They roll out their arms, a hand caressing over their face and swooping around them, before they transition seamlessly into a whirling, balancing pirouette.

 

The twirling is maddening- one, two, three, rotations and more, even more, and going faster. It’s dizzying, how Yuri, twirling like a song hurtling towards it’s final climax. The sparks pick up into a fiery storm around them- Otabek can feel the heat beginning to grow with Yuri’s pace, the flames rising around them like a whirlwind. Their rotations never cease through it, their arms pulled in and out to keep momentum as they twirled, feet barely touching the ground as they twist around their spinning body.

 

A flash of recognition that Otabek can’t ignore passes through his eyes at the sight of it. Yuri dancing. But he can't place it- because in all of a moment, as frantic and passionate as they’d begun, Yuri ends it.

 

The dance of flames that stretched outwards with it’s burning limbs ceased to be, as the fairy slows their spin to a beautiful, heartbreaking halt. They take a step forward, and another with a two-timed twirl- before throwing out their arms like a bow, and their back arches with the pose.

 

Yuri’s chest heaves with breath. And Otabek notices sweat beginning to bead on their skin, from heat and exertion.

 

The grin on their face is worth it, though.

   
The fairy doesn’t even have to ask what Otabek thinks- the knight is sure that his face is painted with so many different shades of amazed and impressed, and he legitimatly enjoyed watching them. _More_ than enjoyed it.

 

Yuri, in the movement of their arms- and the quickness of their feet, and _everything_ \- has enough beauty to fell a king.

 

Or bewitch the heart of one.

 

“...Wow.” Otabek breathes.

 

Yuri drops their arms, and they sit with a breathless laugh. Otabek knew they were a wonder- knew they held power under their delicate frame from the moment they met- but he’d never thought he’d see it. The flames had risen high into the winter air, but the smile on Yuri’s face…

 

 _That_ was worth a thousand blazes. There’s a love in their steps, and Otabek sees _why_ they love it. Yuri is amazing, plain and simple, when they dance. Otabek had already said it, but he knows he'll be saying it still for years to come.

 

Theres a name for this, Otabek thinks again.

 

Echoing words from yesterday. Yuri’s laugh, Yuri’s smile. Yuri being Yuri. Otabek sits down next to them as they talk.

 

“Not used to… being this breathless." Yuri giggles. _Giggles_! "Or… wet? This is sweat, right?” they ask, slightly concerned.

 

“...Teah. That’s sweat.” Otabek confirms.

 

“Oh. Cool, I guess.” Yuri puffs. They start crawling over to the their pack to find a canteen, like they'd just realized they needed water. 

 

It's then that Otabek feels the need to point out- “Your power" he says. "could be devastating, Yuri.”

 

The fairy manages to dig out their bottle, and as they unscrew the cap, they give Otabek an odd look.

 

"You don't think I already know?" they deadpan, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

 

Otabek wonders at their words, and it’s not a good sort of wondering.

 

Their Ice was devastating, and Yuri was skilled. Skilled and beautiful, but beauty could hide pain and terror. In his memories, Otabek saw what the Ice could do. He saw storms, and his sister’s corpse, and a city fallen to the snow under the heel of a false King. It was like something out of a fairytale, and yet- it was real. It made Otabek sick to his stomach to remember the crystalline ice, jutting out from rooftops and smashed windows and stained with blood, of people and fae alike fleeing, and of himself- of his sister.

 

Otabek can feel that magic- the deadly ice- in his bones, now. Or what remnants of it jutting out of his skin, trying to burst free from his spirit. An itch that needed to be scratched. A want for release, and the dullness could quickly become torture.

 

“Last night…" Otabek whispers. He scratches his arm cautiously. "...did that ever happen to you?”

 

Caught off guard, Yuri’s form goes taut like a wire. The canteen stops halfway to their lips, and they growl- though Otabek clarifies.

 

“You said you were a born talent.”

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Yuri clips.

 

They draw their arms in close to their form, letting the canteen drop. Their grip on the bottle is tight.

 

Time to get out the metaphorical stick.

 

“…So, it did?” he guesses.

 

“Fuck you, _Altin_ , I said I don’t wanna talk.” Yuri shouts. "Why do you always have to ask questions like-"

 

_Altin._

When Otabek thinks about it, he saw green eyes like Yuri’s, once.

 

And he’s heard the name Altin fall from the lips of someone who’d laughed in a jeering cackle, who wore a crown of ice and sneered at the remnants of Almaty at his feet.

 

Otabek says nothing on it. Not because he doesn’t want to, but for the sake of avoiding conflict, and he stands- interrupting Yuri's rant before it even starts.

 

“We should get going.” he says. And Yuri- for what it's worth, despite being annoyed at being cut off- nods, and rises too.

 

“Yeah. We should”

 

 

\-----

 

 

_Chris, you are forbidden from sleeping around while you’re watching my Yuuri!_

 

They would have called Viktor a tight-ass, but… well. There’s an innuendo there, somewhere.

 

As they leave the gate, Christophe’s thoughts are distracted. There’s a distinct yelling not far, at the ancient plateau- and they smirk at what they hear. One voice, they don't recognize. But the other, they do- and it’s a voice that they haven’t heard in _months_. Wouldn’t need to in order to place it.

 

That fairy’s foul mouth was almost legendary.

 

They fly on over, and they call.

 

 

“Well, well! If it isn’t King Viktor’s little kitten! It’s good to hear you alive, dear. I’m sure that His Highness Yuuri will be pleased to see you~”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhfgjhjfg just take this update. take it
> 
>  
> 
> magic by mystery skulls plays in the bg
> 
> EDIT: 24/02/17: does it count as foreshadowing if you add it in later


	7. Quiet

 

“Well, well!”

 

Otabek snaps his head to the sound- though he surveys the clearing, there’s nothing unusual to be seen. The voice purrs, lisping and lightly sultry.

 

“If it isn’t King Viktor’s little kitten! It’s good to hear you alive, dear. I’m sure that His Highness Yuuri will be pleased to see you~”

 

“…Christophe.” Yuri suddenly snarls.

 

And it’s when Otabek looks up to see the pinkish glow of the other fairy that he hears the bells. Different to the way Yuri sounds- it’s a low gonging, like a church bell. Slow and deliberate. The shining fairy descends as they chuckle, and their light turns a darker red-and-green as it expands. It casts its shadow along the stone plateau in the soon to fade winter’s afternoon.

 

“Cover your eyes.” Yuri whispers fiercely.

 

“What?”

 

“I said-“

 

“And who’s this handsome human, kitten~?”

 

Yuri dives for Otabek, gripping his body and hanging off his back like a tree-hugging cat. Kitten.

 

Huh. Appropriate nickname.

 

Yuri clasps their hands over Otabek’s eyes, and though he sighs in exasperation, the knight doesn’t attempt to pry them off. The world is darkness behind Yuri’s tiny palms.

 

“He’s nobody!” The fairy spits. “Where’s Viktor?”

 

“Now that is just rude! I’m sure your human is lovely!” the other fairy- Christophe- lisps, and tilts their voice low. “Otabek Altin, am I right?”

 

Otabek swallows, and he responds with caution.

 

“Y-yes.” He stammers, bringing his hands to Yuri’s wrists and holding them tight. “Yura, please.” He says.

 

Yuri hisses, and Otabek is thinking he'll adopt the name _Kitten_  for Yuri himself.

 

“They’re fucking _naked_ , Otabek.” The fairy says.

 

“ _You_ were naked when I met you.” Otabek points out.

 

Christoph laughs suggestively, and Yuri growls at them, unforgiving. They shout-

 

“Laugh all you want- but at least I don't have a gross-ass fucking  _dick_ like _you_  do. Put some pants on, asshole!”  

 

Otabek can imagine the other fairy doubling over in laughter, as Yuri’s hands tighten over his face. Imagine it, hear it- same thing. Christophe doesn't seem to phased.

  
“Really, kitten?” The other fairy giggles. “That’s awfully shallow of you, judging me for my looks.”

 

Otabek could comment on Christophe's looks too, if he could _see_.

 

“Cover your _fucking garbage_  or I’m not talking to you!” Yuri screeches, and Otabek flinches, because Yuri is right next to his ear and it peaks, with their shrill, defensive voice.

 

Christophe sighs.

 

“...Well, whatever. Say- didn’t you ask where Viktor was?” they add flippantly. And Otabek hears the patter of Christophe’s (presumably) bare feet on the plateau stone.

 

Otabek finally pries Yuri off of him to regain his vision, just as Christoph disappears. He hears their voice from a little bit away, still out of sight.

 

“Y’know, I could save lot of time and energy if everyone could stop being so _uptight_ about _nudity_.“

 

And here, Christophe struts back into view. They’re an imposing sight to take in- a surprisingly muscular person with distinctly masculine features. A mix of blonde-brown stubble lining their chin, and their eyes were green like Yuri’s- less glassy than theirs, though, but they coursed with a similar hidden potential for power. Their long eyelashes and overall demeanour screamed feminine, though, despite their appearance- in an odd but interesting contrast. Fairies, as a species, continued to surprise Otabek. Though he hadn’t seen Christophe do anything, he knew that this fairy could very easily destroy with the flick of the wrist- and probably look drop dead gorgeous doing so.

 

That's just the vibe Christophe gave off. Otabek also got the distinct vibe, by the way that they hadn't _once_ addressed Otabek directly, that they didn't like him. Or trust him. Or respect him.

 

Though Yuri had long since slid off the knight’s back, they kept close to him. Their hand had wormed its way into the fabric of Otabek’s shirt, determined not to let him go.

 

Christophe, on the other hand, continues their chattering- pacing the plateau without a care. They wore some sort of loincloth made out of flowers, now, that draped over their hips and left their toned shoulders and torso exposed. Otabek figured it was for their wings to breathe, and in all honesty- if Yuri had let him his sight much earlier, Otabek would’ve been too transfixed by the gossamer shimmer of Christophe's wings to notice anything else.

 

Those _things_ that stretched from Christophe’s back were beautiful. Otabek would liken them to a butterfly, if the creature were translucent and silver. They sparkled, gleamed the way Magic did in the sunlight, spread over Yuri’s porcelain skin- and it sent tingles down Otabek’s spine just looking at it.

 

Christophe’s chirping interrupts all those thoughts. Not that they’re speaking to him.

 

“We’ve been looking all over for you, you know? His Highness and I." they sigh. "Well- mostly me, really. His Highness isn’t allowed out of the sanctuary, poor thing.”

 

Their hips shimmy as they walk, a light strut on airy feet.

 

“I know.” Yuri replies with a heavy mumble. “You both should have known where to find me.”

 

Christophe pauses, and twirls a little, purely for show. Their wings flutter twice as they coo. “Ah, but we didn’t after _he_ broke all _his_ contracts, no? Much harder to get a hold of when you’re not playing pet, Kitten.”

 

Yuri breathes in deep through their nose.

 

“Did you come to find me, or insult me?” they spit.

 

Christophe giggles darkly. “Oh, no. I tease, I tease. But seriously- breaking your contract with The Usurper like that was a ballsy move. His other darling servants were able to go free after your stunt! Exploiting the contract loophole was _very_ clever.” The fairy hums.

 

Otabek is… totally lost. He notices Yuri’s grip tighten on him, and the fairy gives them a glance before speaking with hesitant, shaky breaths.

 

“Yeah. _‘Clever_ ’." they spit. "And _then_ he killed anyone who tried to escape with me. People _died_ because of me, Chris. How many survived Almaty?”

 

 _…Oh_ , Otabek thinks.

 

_Oh._

 

And it doesn’t mean anything other than he wishes he’d known this before. For every time Yuri opens up, there's still more underneath.

 

Christophe frowns, pensive- and their face morphs into something morbid as they freeze. With the topic, Otabek would take that as a given. But on Christophe, it seems unnatural.

 

“…You saved Mila.” they quietly say. “And that Aurora guy. Some others you haven’t met yet. Even a halfling-"

 

They crinkle their nose in disgust.

 

"Anyone else, I…”

  
The fairy’s wings flutter nervously, and they can’t seem to help but give a sad smile as they trail off. It’s awfully hollow, and the plateau goes silent.

 

“If… I may interrupt-“

 

Yuri’s face as they look up at Otabek tells him he may _not_ interrupt, but Otabek does so anyway.

 

“I’m not sure what it is you’re talking about, Christophe.” He asks.

 

Christophe's sad smile evolves to something more cordial and cold, when Otabek speaks. As expected- they've made their feelings towards humans very, very clear. Thick eyebrows pressed over their forehead. They sing almost sarcastically as they talk- derisive and snide, disrespectful in a less direct way than Yuri.

 

“You’re an Altin, aren’t you?" Christophe smiles, venomous.

 

"You should have been there.”                                                                                                                                

 

Yuri cuts in.

 

“He doesn’t remember anything about Almaty.” they say. "Don't fucking _try_ us, Chris."

  

Otabek nods in confirmation, terse. “I was hurt really badly in an accident." he says, "And Yuri saved my life. But my memories have been gone for a long time.”

 

He didn’t even know he was an Altin- whatever that was, he’s thinking it’s a last name- until Yuri had spat it at him impersonally, less than ten minutes ago.

 

Christophe narrows their eyes, and though they open their mouth to speak, Yuri yells over the top of them in sudden action. They detach themselves from Otabek, stamping a leopard-skin foot in the other fairy’s direction.

 

“None of this matters- Chris!" they scream. "Where the _fuck_ is Viktor?”

 

Christophe’s expression somehow manages to sour even further. They lean their weight to the left, hip popped, and they huff.

 

“Well how should I know?!” they whine “ _I’m_ not the one married to him.”

 

“You’re his fucking _high guard_!” Yuri blanches.

 

“And you’re his  _pet_!" Christophe spits. "Yet look where he left you, huh?”

 

The fairy intimidatingly looms over Yuri, and it sets off something primal in Otabek's gut.

 

“You’re all bark and no bite without your master." they sneer. "Were you _that_ desperate to be led by royalty that you had to rope _him_ along?” 

 

They jerk their head in Otabek's direction- he's having none of this.

 

“I’m here because I want to be.”

 

It does nothing but cause Christophe to scoff.

 

“I’m sure you are." they mutter. "And I’m sure that King’s _seat cushion_  here gave you a choice in the matter.”

 

It’s Otabek’s turn to grab Yuri as the fairy surges forward, fingers barely catching the fabric of their cloak. They write in his grip, and their eyes spout green fire. It worsens when Christophe smiles in smug satisfaction.

 

“But what can I say?” they shrug “I’m just a _lapdog_ in the end, aren’t I? Viktor is a selfish fool. He told us _nothing_.” The other fairy snaps, and there’s a venom in their voice that runs deep- it has a history that Otabek doesn’t quite, and might never understand.

 

Yet he frowns.

 

“’Us’ being you," he clarifies "and…?”

 

Yuri's struggling slows to a tired, useless flailing of limbs, and Christophe flits their wings in warning.

 

“Yuuri Katsuki." they say blankly. "His Highness has been missing his husband for _weeks_.”

 

The Fairy King...

 

"You're telling me the Fairy King is just... gone?"

 

"Sharp as a tack." Christophe hisses.

 

Otabek can’t help but worry his lower lip.

 

He’s still holding Yuri by the collar, and the fairy watches him intensively. They watch, and then they call for him.

 

“Beka.”  Yuri says.

 

Otabek glances down.

 

He recognizes Yuri’s determined look, and the steel in their eyes is a prompt for him to let them go. So he does, and Yuri is calm.

 

“This isn't a sign to give up." they say. "Katsuki has to know _something_.”

 

As if predicting Otabek's fears, Yuri wipes them away with a surprising plan of action- with facts and logic.

 

“Pork Cutlet Bowl gets anxious, and without reassurance you can bet his _ass_ he’d run after Viktor in a heartbeat." Yuri explains. "And Viktor wouldn’t have wanted that- so Katsuki has know where Viktor  _should_ be, at the very least. If he knows where he is, there's less chance that he'll worry.”

 

“That... makes sense." Otabek nods. "But are you sure?”

 

“I’m positive." Yuri affirms. "If Katsuki was worried about something, he'd knock down a castle wall to fix it. If he's scared, he'd have a plan of action to make it ok. He's that kind of guy."

 

The fairy holds their body tight.

 

There’s an overwhelming sense that, as much as those words were fact, they were a reassurance for Yuri- or a bit of hyperbole, but if Katsuki is exactly how Yuri says he is, Otabek can respect him. A new fire burns in Yuri’s eyes, and it warms him- but Christophe seems determined to stamp it out the first chance they could get. Even if Otabek had forgotten they were there.

 

“The King _did_ warn us he was leaving, but he never told us _where exactly_ , or for _how long_. We thought it’d be just a few days…”

 

Arms folded, and anger simmering beneath their smile, the other fairy spits.

 

“You think I haven’t just _asked_ His Highness if he knew?” Christophe says. "As you so liked to point out, Kitten, I'm Viktor's _High Guard_. And his commanding officer."

 

Green eyes ablaze, Yuri merely sneers.

 

“Who cares about titles? No one says Yuuri would tell you _everything_.”

 

Chris gasps- almost, nearly, a little angry. A hand over their heart.

 

“We are _good friends,_ thank you! His Highness trusts me!”

 

“Clearly- since you're still stuck using fucking formalities.” Yuri scoff, mocking Christophe's earlier pose with a hand resting on their cocked hip.

 

Though Otabek likes to see Christophe get their comeuppance, this conversation is going nowhere, fast. He interrupts-

 

“I don’t doubt that, Christophe-“ he says. "But Yuuri Katsuki could have his reasons for hiding the truth. He hasn’t seen his family in weeks, and _they_ don’t know where Viktor is, either.”

 

Christoph actually recoils, then- arms unfolding, and their face softens.

 

“…Seriously?” they breathe.

 

Otabek nods.

 

“We met them a little over a week ago. So, seriously- they really miss him. And of course, this is a serious matter.”

 

“Yeah-" Yuri snickers "-like a whole Kingdom falling, and our Ruler going _fucking missing in action_ wasn’t serious enough already!”

 

Christophe opts to chide them with a taut smile, wagging a finger in Yuri's direction.

 

“You’re too high-strung, Kitten!" they cry- a note of strain in their voice. They're still clearly pissed off. "The King always told you to loosen up.”

 

“And I ignored him because clearly, he's a fucking idiot.” Yuri replies straight.

 

Otabek covers his hand with his mouth at that. He coughs, but he's trying to hide a laugh- and Yuri looks _far_ too pleased at his reaction.

 

Christophe doesn't, but they do seem to soften at Yuri's cheeky smile. Like... nostalgia. And their voice seems to confirm it. They sigh-

 

“You really haven’t changed.”

 

And it's almost fond. Almost.

 

Then suddenly, Christophe straightens. They hold their head high, and with a hum, their body begins to lift from the ground with the fluttering of sheer, silky wings. They're suddenly hovering.

 

 “Well, whatever! Come on, Kitten!” They beckon. “…And the human, I guess. Follow me.”

 

Otabek blinks.

 

“…What- where are we going?” he asks, a little confused, and a lot suspicious.

 

Christophe bats their long eyelashes, lips pouted through their smirk. “Home, of course!” they cry. “I’m sure that His Highness would _love_ to know that his beloved Kitten is doing well~”

 

Yuri groans in annoyance, and Christophe’s church-bell laugh echoes as they float away. They fade into the distance, and really- 

 

If they're leading Yuri and Otabek to Yuuri Katsuki, what other choice do they have? He steps, and breaks into a run- but then, Otabek is stopped.

 

And he’s startled to feel delicate fingers slipping into his. Nails tracing the grooves of his palms as they slot in.

 

Pulling close to his side and leaning into his ear, Yuri whispers, harsh- and their voice creeps through Otabek like the ice in his veins, but warmer.

 

“Don’t take your eyes off Chris.”  they warn. “And don’t let go of me. They like to play jokes, and they _will_ use this place to get us lost. Don’t give them that chance.”

 

Otabek swallows. Hard, and suddenly he's nervous.

 

Did he mention that a fairy's idea of a joke was morbid?

 

“At least we’ll be together, if we get lost.” Otabek murmurs.

 

Yuri sighs, and whispers back. “Exactly. So under _no_ circumstances are you to let go of me.” they say. "Ever."

 

And here, there’s an unsaid feeling deep inside of Otabek. A feeling saying that these ‘circumstances’ Yuri mentions extend to far beyond this moment. That when the blonde says ‘don’t let go of me’, they mean forever.

 

But it's probably all just in Otabek's head.

 

“I’d never even dream of it.” He says.

 

 

\----

 

True to his word, Otabek holds Yuri close as they follow Christophe, back past the carved rock leading to the plateau and into a mess of trees. The branches twist and turn, and Christophe flies quickly, flitting. The other fairy is hard to keep track of, and it takes all of Otabek’s senses to keep going. Through the identical branches and crunching snow, Otabek tunes out the world until it it’s just him and Yuri’s hand in his; one foot stumbling after the other. Christophe speeds up, at one point, with a low chuckle- and the forest becomes a blur past Otabek, wind rushing past his ears as the knight breaks into a run.

 

Yuri grunts in protest beside him, but they manage to keep in time through their stumbles.

 

\---

 

It’s in a daze that Otabek suddenly steps out into the clearing.

 

The trees had thinned- no longer a curling, maze-like mass- and Christophe hovers in the centre over a ring of mushrooms, wings barely creating a breath. The fairy had a hand resting on their hip and a pensive grin tacked on their face. There’s no visible fatigue to them, unlike Otabek and Yuri- the two of them are puffing, struggling to catch a breath. Otabek’s legs shake.

 

Looking at Christophe, it takes a moment for the knight to realize that they’re grinning at Yuri.

 

“Even that redhead Katsuki picked up has more stamina than you.” They purr. “Are you finally getting _old_?”

 

Yuri’s grip tightens in Otabek’s hand.

 

“Shut it.” they spit, and the blonde gives no further retaliation. They’re too busy gasping for breath.

 

Otabek decides then and there that he really, really doesn’t like Christophe. Besides their flamboyance, their chattiness and their relentless teasing, there’s a malice underneath it all that he can’t help but be a little afraid of. And his downright rudeness towards him- he doesn't hate him, but it's just... uncalled for.

 

Yuri looks spent- spent enough to not want to deal with Christophe, at least- and Otabek would be lying to say he didn’t feel the same. The fairy straightens their back and readjust their oversized clothes before they speak, pulling their collar up like a form of self-defense, from where it had once again slipped.

 

“Are we here, Chris?” they ask.

 

Christophe sighs. Their wings flick in annoyance.

 

“Yes, we’re here- unfortunately. I was hoping to at _least_ lose the human.”

 

…Ah.

 

Yuri snarls.

 

“ _Fuck you_. Otabek goes nowhere.” they say, with a passion that's still like them, but unexpected all the same. Christophe makes an amused-sounding snort.

 

“You’ve got his hand in a chokehold, dear.” they deadpan as a retort.

 

It’s true.

 

Yuri’s response is to hold onto him tighter.

 

“In any case-” Christophe rolls their eyes. “-the gate to His Highness’s Sanctuary is activated by magic. You know, so only _Fairer Folk_ can enter and leave.”

 

“I’m seeing a trend where I’m not wanted.” Otabek says aloud- as if it wasn't obvious, and it makes Christophe snicker.

 

“No hard feelings, dear.” They mutter. “It’s only for His Highness’s safety. Nothing personal."

 

That was such a blatant lie. It was almost _laughable_.

 

"Now, Kitten-" Christophe grins. "If you could do the honors?”

 

They bow- and sudden, sharp chill runs through Yuri, their hand growing sweaty in Otabek’s grip. They release him, finally, to wipe their palms on their grubby cloak, and Otabek is struck.

 

Yuri doesn’t have magic anymore. Yuri isn’t a fairy.

 

Yuri can’t open the gate for them.

 

...And Christophe doesn’t know, does he?

 

“I’ll do it.” Otabek calls.

 

“-huh?”

 

“I’ll open the gate.” Otabek repeats, and Christophe looks a little stunned. He tries to hold himself with pride, the way Yuri does when they dance. He needs the confidence, and Christophe’s eyes widen as their body pulls in.

 

But with two flits of their wings, they loosen up and laugh- loud, and Otabek is beginning to despise it.

 

“That powder you humans use won’t work on this, you silly thing~!” they chime patronizingly.

 

“I’ll open the gate.” Otabek repeats, gritting his teeth. “Step aside, please.”

 

That ticks them off.

 

Christophe pouts petulantly at him as he steps forward- the look on their face is downright vehement. Meanwhile, Otabek’s stomach is churning, and he’s trying not to show it.

 

Another step closer, and Yuri catches his sleeve. For the second time today.

 

Their fingers pull at the grimy fabric with a tiny, urgent tug.

 

“Don’t” they whisper.

 

And Otabek is pulled in close.

 

Too close, with a surprising amount of force, to the fairy’s face. Yuri’s breathe tickles his ear as they speak, hoarse and trembling from their dry lips, and Otabek trembles for a completly different reason. He sighs, soft, though his chest feels constricted, and his lungs feel drawn and tight.

 

“We don’t have a choice, Yuri.” He says.

 

“You can’t control yourself.”

 

“You taught me how.”

 

“But there’s more to it than just-" Yuri hisses. But in the same breath, they cut themselves off. Because they staring- staring right into Otabek's own eyes, and he's looking back and it flips _something_. It turns on a switch, and Yuri, all of a sudden, changes their mind.

 

Yuri decides to trust him.

 

“Just… ok. Do something small. Imagine a snowflake or some shit.” they whisper.

 

Otabek raises a brow at their submission. They shake him a little in their grip- perfect lips pressed thin and tight and incredibly exasperated at him.

 

“I’m fucking _begging_ you, ok?" they say. "Don’t! be! a dumbass! And don’t-"

 

Yuri licks their lips. Wets them while they think of the next thing to say.

 

"...Don’t think about anything when you do it. Anyone." they amend. "Not Chris, not… anyone else, just- leave your mind blank. Magic comes from _you_ and how you feel. Control that. Do you understand me?”

 

_(Feelings of dread and guilt, and the horror of that dream that creep up his spine and summon frost, a negative build up spiralling out of control into mass destruction as his eyes fly open._

_Gripping Yuri, and their arms freezing together in a cage of Ice._

_Yuri sobbing. Yuri sobbing)_

Otabek understands, and so, he nods. Yuri releases him with a breath- and he pulls away just as Christophe calls.

 

“Come now, Kitty! You can’t hold onto him forever! We have places to be~!”

 

_We'll see, then._

 

He can't say he's fully confidant. But Otabek strides to meet Christophe in the mushroom circle, and the fairy flutters aside with disdain as he does- giving him plenty of space.

 

“Do your best, _human_.” They purr. All thin-veiled aggression.

_Don’t think about Chris._

 

…What was it again? First position. Otabek didn’t plan on dancing, but the stance might help. He breathes deep, through his core, as he takes place in the mushroom circle and holds his arms in front of him. Gods, he was out of his depth. He holds his feet parallel to one another, back held straight and head bowed in concentration.

 

_Don’t think about anyone else._

 

Eyes closed, Otabek imagines a snowflake, and recalls the feeling of frost in his veins from that night- the nightmare. He imagines a gate opening. He then imagines this actually working, because right now, he has very little faith.

 

To his surprise, he’s able to summon the feeling of frost, and summon it quicker than he thought. It stings, almost, but this new sensation of pins and needles he distinctly recognizes as the beginnings of magic. He imagines it running down his arm and bursting forth into a puff of snow, and prays that it works.

 

_Mrs Katsuki. Mari. My sister? Oh-_

Otabek seizes.

 

His arm begins to freeze over, and he grunts in pain. The ice particles cling to his skin, cold and hard.

 

_Don’t. think._

 

He doesn’t break position, but he’s trembling. He can hear Yuri calling out for him as he breathes, chest heaving, and he’s in pain.

 

“You idiot!” they yell, and a word like _‘Davai-!’_

 

And then, as cliche as it seems, the two lock eyes, and time stops. Otabek hones in on that- in his panic, he automatically looks to Yuri for salvation.

 

The fairy has a hand raised as they shout, green eyes wild and intense for him, just a little aways. Their long hair whips in the winter breeze, golden and untamed, and it reveals their face with pressed brows and determination in their stance. That look is outright beautiful on them- there’s no other word for it, though Otabek always thought they were. But here, Yuri wasn't even doing anything, and somehow, they still took Otabek's breath away.

 

A Yuri completely into their own. Magical without wings, without fire, without dance.

 

Yuri beautiful by just being Yuri.

 

The pain in Otabek’s arm travels downwards- from his shoulder to shoot to his forearm. It hurts like hell and the ice is burning him as it digs into his skin and crawls in patterns, but it moves quickly and-

 

-Forces itself up through his palm, in a quiet, silver shower of snow. Time resumes, and Christoph coughs so much they splutter, like they're choking on the ice.

 

Yuri, on the other hand, positively _screams_.

 

There’s a little snowflake- several little snowflakes, actually, falling around his outspread hand. Otabek trembles with excitement, and the mini snow storm shakes with him. He did this. This was _his_.

 

“Oh. Yay.” he says, and his voice is quiet with shock.

 

Dumbstruck, and a giddy smile plastered on his face, the stream of snow fades away with the tingling in Otabek’s body. A light surrounds him, but he doesn’t notice. At the second the ring of mushrooms lights up and glows, Otabek is pulled into a flying hug. The force of it nearly bowls him over, and he returns it with shaking fingers clasped around Yuri’s tiny form. It's probably Yuri, right?

 

He looks down and sees a big, wide grin.

 

Yeah. It's Yuri.

 

They sound almost angry as they yell, but Otabek knows them better than that. Yuri is pliant in his arms, and they nuzzle into his chest, eyes squeezed shut for as big as they smile.

 

“You fucking DID IT, Beka!” They rasp. “Holy shit!” Do you KNOW-“

 

They pull away for a second and grab Otabek by both of his broad shoulders. Barely shaking him, since he's too awestruck to resist.

 

”- do you fucking KNOW how long it took me to not destroy everything I goddamn touched when I did that? Huh? HUH?!”

 

The bells pealing in Otabek's ears bring him back to reality as Yuri laughs, exhilarated. Otabek likes their laugh.

 

_There's a name for this. There has to be a name for this._

 

“TEN YEARS!” Yuri cries. “Ten years, Beka! You did that in fucking… two days! And you only came THIS close-“

 

Yuri pinches their fingers together, squinting as they present the tiny gap to his face.

 

“- THIS close to killing me the first time!”

 

“-Ahem, you two” Christoph loudly clears their throat. And it's enough for Otabek to blink, and for Yuri to climb down from his chest with a mouth in a small 'o' and an embarrassed flush on their face.

 

“We’re here.”

 

“We- oh. Yeah. We’re here.”

 

“Welcome to the Fair Realm, I guess.” Christophe mutters. “And welcome home, Kitten.” they say, a little milder.

 

Dimly tearing his eyes away from Yuri, Otabek looks around- to take in the sights. And- oh.

 

It’s a sight to take in, indeed.

 

Where the forest and plateau were the very picture of winter- grey clouds, grey trees, grey snow and a cold, a chill biting the breeze- this place seemed to be in an eternal spring. Flowers grew in clumps everywhere, colorful and plentiful, popping up from the ground. The greenery around held fruit, too- plump and ripe for the picking- and the place thrummed with magic. Otabek could hear the rushing of clean water, the sound of a waterfall or spring. The air was misty and alive with everything. The mountains ethereal in the backdrop, bleeding into the blueness of the sky.

 

The air feels good to breathe here.

 

Christophe’s sour mood seems to lighten, once they flutter out of the mushroom circle.

 

“Don’t you find winter depressing?” they say.  “All that _ice_ and _snow_ \- oh. No offence, Kitten.”

 

Yuri snorts. “None taken. What about Otabek, though?”

 

“I wasn’t offended.”

 

Christophe laughs. “I’m glad. I feel... an apology is in order from me.” They say. For their behaviour, presumably. And for trying to abandon Otabek in a cold, magic forest to wander for eternity and die.

  

“It’s no problem." Otabek waves a hand. Though it was kind of a problem if they were planning on doing it again. "Thank you for guiding us, Christophe.” Otabek says.

 

Christoph hums, but they pointedly don't answer him. They do, however, lower to the ground and walk. Which was odd- because Yuri always seemed to stumble, on the first few days without their wings. But who knows? Maybe it was a preference thing. Otabek is about to ask, when Christophe speaks.

 

“His Highness should be expecting me soon-" they say. "But not you two. Won’t that be a surprise?”

 

“Hopefully a good one.” Otabek mumbles. Christophe chuckles, and calls over their shoulder.

 

“Oh, it will be.” they sing.

 

And then, they look at Yuri.

 

“...He’s been worried for you, Kitten. As much as he’s been worried for Viktor. His Highness is far too fond of you.” 

 

Yuri frowns, and prompts Otabek to follow Christophe once again. They don’t hold hands this time, but the knight and the fairy stay in step. It's close enough to touching, for now. They'll work on it later.

 

“Whatever. This place hasn’t changed at all.” Yuri comments with a huff- very much dodging the statement. They say it like it’s a bad thing, but Otabek can’t imagine a better vision of paradise than one where the weather is always fine, and the crunch underfoot is of grass rather than snow all year long.

 

“That’s because it can’t!” Christoph smirks. “The King designed it to be impenetrable AND ageless!”

 

Otabek gets that the statement was for him more than for Yuri. He blinks.

 

“That’s not possible. Is it?” He asks, genuinely curious.

 

“Oh, it is!” Christophe laughs, and Yuri sighs as they're left to explain with a scowl.

 

“This place is separate from the human realm- that place belongs to no one. But for us, when a Ruler is chosen for each clan- ours is Ice- they gain control of that clan’s Realm completely."

 

"I see." Otabek hums, understanding, and Yuri bites their lip.

 

"Viktor mostly does what they like with this place. I don’t know what other clan rulers are like.”

 

“Do other people live here?” Otabek asks.

 

“Humans?” Christophe interrupts- waves their hand with a snort. “Of course not, darling. But there are plenty of Fae lounging around here. Or… there were, before.”

 

Yuri’s sharp look tells Otabek he shouldn’t pry this time- no sticks. He doesn’t really have to- the silence of the place told all, really. He doesn't ask, and Christophe continues their banter through the flowering meadow.

 

“Oh, everyone will be so pleased to see you, Kitten! Especially Mila- oh, I forgot to mention. She brought a Halfling with her just like you did, and it- _she_ -" Christophe quickly corrects "-gave them a name. Anyway!”

 

The other fairy claps their hands, enthusiastically as they can.

 

“Kitten- you just _have_ to have a fly-around and see what’s changed here. The King installed a Hot Springs - it’s absolutely divine, I’m telling you!” Christophe flutters. “His Highness missed the baths at his family's home, it seemed, and so did Viktor. I don't blame them.” they sigh.

 

“That-" Yuri snorts. "Or it was one hell of an engagement present.”

 

“The King could have stayed with Katsuki’s family instead, if both of them missed home so much." Otabek points out. "....Or at least visit"

 

Christophe tuts at him.

 

“Oh, but wouldn’t be worth the risk, would it? Viktor’s got someone to look out for. You know- it really isn’t like him, to be concerned for others. Nut I suppose Yuuri is special.” Christophe sighs.

 

“He’s married to a powerful King.” Otabek shrugs. "I would assume he was special."

 

Christophe seems to consider this- humming with a bat of their wings, and a roll of their sculpted shoulders. Finally, they say- “He is. Though I mean that Yuuri is special on their own, before and without Viktor. The King wouldn’t have chosen him otherwise.”

 

“Chosen?”

 

“Don't. It’s a long fucking story.” Yuri grumbles lowly. “A fucking sappy and frankly _disgusting_ story that I don't wanna relive _again_.”

 

“Aww! But it’s good one!” Christophe laughs. “Even _yours truly_ manages to get involved. I invented pole dancing!” they yell proudly.

 

Yuri snaps.

 

“You’re not telling that story, either!” they screech- and Christoph pouts at them, like a grubby child. Deliberately, they use their flitting wings to create a puff of air, and it blows right into Yuri’s face. Their golden hair stick up at all kinds of angles because of it, and Otabek laughs for it.

 

It’s really cute.

 

“Oh well.” Christophe sighs in defeat. “Maybe you’ll have your own tale of romance to tell someday, Kitten. ”

 

Christoph’s church-bell laughter could never be as sweet as Yuri’s intense, deep groan of pure exasperation. Or at least, to Otabek. There was something amusing in itself about that; that the things he liked best about Yuri were things the things other people hated, or outright feared. As Christophe laughs, and Yuri grumbles with a rose-coloured blush spreading across their cheeks, Otabek watches. He thinks, and he’s thinking about Yuri.

 

Memories aside, Otabek is yet to meet someone like them.

 

 

He thinks he never will. Yuuri Katsuki might be special, but no matter what he is, he doubts he can be as special as Otabek's Yuri.

 

 

\---

 

 

(Fact number Whatever He Was Up To, Fuck it- He Didn't Care Anymore:

 

Otabek Altin, age 19, is a little bit- just a little bit- of a romantic.

 

And in that train of thought, he very much believes in love at first sight.)

 

 

\---

 

 

The hall has been quiet, lately. Their house too, and the Onsen, and Yuuri’s bedroom. It’s quiet without the Kitten shouting at Viktor. Or swearing at Yuuri and Makkachin for stealing food again. It’s quiet without the other families hanging around- Halflings and Fair Folk chattering and peacefully living together in Viktor’s (not literal, but he nicknamed it this-) Utopia. The Fair Realm he ruled over, and make a paradise just for him and Yuuri.

 

Gods, it’s quiet without Viktor.

 

It’s quiet in general, these days.

 

As light filters through the high, stained-glass windows, Yuuri’s mind ticks over. There’s fear resting behind his glasses, behind big, brown eyes and unshed tears. Fear that his family- Mari and his Mother, or Viktor or Phichit or anyone he’d come to call a home- were in danger, and there wasn’t anything he could do for them, now.

 

It’s quiet, and then the Cathedral doors creak open.

 

“Your Highness.” a cheerful voice says.

 

“C-Chris! You’re back!” Yuuri calls, startled. He lifts his glasses to wipe his eyes as Christophe patters in. He’s in human form today, no doubt about to enjoy a soak in the Onsen with it.

 

Christophe purrs as he kneels and dips his head out of respect, a teasing rumble in his throat. “Of course. Were you getting lonely?” he winks, and it looks ridiculous from his submissive position.

 

Yuuri can’t help but laugh a little. The sound of his own voice chiming is one he’d learnt to get used to. As a child, he never even smiled for fear of being revealed as something more than a Human. He only wishes Viktor were here to hear him- to tell him how beautiful his bells sounded, and for Yuuri to tease him back.

 

“Of course not.” Yuuri smiles. "I don't get lonely that easily.'

 

It’s a boldfaced lie. He’s very lonely. But he's never, ever going to admit that to anyone but Viktor.

 

Christoph seems to spot his fib, though- and he tilts his head to the side.

 

“Oh? Well that’s a shame. If you’re busy- and not _lonely_ at all- I’ll have to send away your guests.” He says, with a mock sigh.

 

And before Yuuri can question him, a boy pops his head in.

 

“...Was that our cue?” he whispers, in a deep, foreign-accented rumble. He’s barely an adult- face almost expressionless were it not for the quirk of thick eyebrows, and the ghost of a pout. His jawline is strong, but it's his eyes- soft, grey, and those of a halfling like himself- that catch Yuuri's attention.

 

But then another voice whispers fiercely at him.

 

“You’re a fucking dumbass, Beka." It says. "Get back here-!“

 

And Yuuri recognizes that voice. Oh, gods.

 

He _absolutely_ recognizes that voice.

 

The Halfling King gasps. 

 

His feet barely register as he runs past Chris- still kneeling- as he crosses the length of the hall with impeccable speed. He ignores the boy he doesn’t know for now- he’s too desperate to find what he’s hoping for. Yuuri puts his whole back into sliding the massive oaken doors open, sounding louder than the blood in his ears as he does-

 

And dumbstruck green eyes stare back at him.

 

The blonde boy grunts as he’s pulled into a crushing hug.

 

“…You’re safe." Yuuri whimpers. " _Kotenok,_ you’re safe…!”

 

What else was Yuuri to do but sob?

 

Part of his family was finally home.

 

“I’m so glad you’re alive”,

 

And he’s crying all over the boy’s shirt and cloak, which are filthy anyway, so fuck it. It probably looks awkward as all hell- Yuuri borderline crushing the fairy- but he really doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that the blonde is trying to wriggle away, or that his voice is wavering, too, as he protests.

 

He cares that, selfishly, that he wishes that Viktor were here to see it. But he can't be here, so he ignores the feeling. Instead, he presses the boy closer- and  _Kotenok_ mumbles something like _‘I missed you too’_ , into the skin of Yuuri's shoulder and neck.

 

He missed this.

 

After a moment, though, Yuuri forces himself to loosen up. He takes his glasses off- not that he could see through his tears in the first place. The immense pressure in his chest, the quiet, begins to alleviate- the hollowness filled with aching happiness.

 

“I’m probably hurting you." He sniffs. "S-sorry.”

 

His bells are watery when he laughs, and he jokes- “Your wings are gonna get crushed.”

 

Because he knew the boy was picky about his wings.

 

Except...

 

“… _Kotenok_?”

 

The blonde is frozen in his arms.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks, now worried. He rests a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, but still- they don't respond.

 

“Kitten, come on. Talk to me.” He says, and he slides his hand down the boy’s arm to unclasp his cloak. "What's-"

 

Yuuri’s wrist is grabbed.

 

The Kitten’s grip is tight and icy on Yuuri’s arm. Lithe fingers creating dents in his skin, and he looks into _Kotenok’s_ eyes and excepts to see malice.

 

He flinches when he doesn’t find it. Yuuri sees nothing but loss, and guilt. And then it clicks.

 

“…Oh. Oh gods."

 

Yuuri pales. He covers a hand with his mouth-

 

"Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” he whispers, and he really tries not to cry.

 

He pulls the blonde back into a hug- though nowhere near as bone-breaking as before. Yuuri isn’t worried about his wings, of course, but he’s worried for _him-_  how is he coping like this? He might as well have lost a limb, to lose his flight, his magic- his identity-!

 

To Yuuri's relief, the Kitten doesn’t recoil. Instead, his grip on Yuuri's wrist fails, and his arm drops.  _Kotenok_ shakes in the Halfling King's hold, and Yuuri whispers into his hairline. He’s trying not to bawl as he does it, still. He's almost always on the desperate edge of pure sinking apathy, or trying not to cry.

 

“I am so, so, sorry.” Yuuri gasps. “We let him d-do this to you.” And by him, he means _Him-_ the Usrper King.

 

“It wasn’t _him_.” _Kotenok_ sniffles, replying automatically. “it was me. I chose- I chose this.”

 

“Still...” Yuuri says, voice quivering. Damn it, it hurts to see the Kitten hurting- and now he’s crying again. What he would give to have Viktor here to caress away his tears, to have _Kotenok’s_ wings back, to take it all from that fucking _Usurper King._

 

“We shouldn’t have let you risk your lives for us”  Yuuri says, “We shouldn’t have let you go with JJ.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Otabek thought this when he left the gate, and he thinks this now as he watches Yuri sob into the arms of Yuuri Katsuki, as Christophe silently leaves and Otabek doesn't have the common sense to.

 

 

He thinks that it’s quiet here.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey did u ever want a 5,500 word chapter cause thats what u fuckin got
> 
> i really wanted to introduce Yuuri ok. he's kind of hard to write, but it was good cause now i get to explain the weird shit happening with pronouns!
> 
> fae will use they/them unless they choose to use pronouns. generally they dont tho cause gender is a Human thing. Yuuri uses pronouns for others because he's part human and humans (as stated above) do genders generally. 
> 
> (Viktor, btw, could not give less of a shit about pronouns. so he gets he/they, though i tried to stick to he.)
> 
> and for Yuri! I already mentioned that he uses he/him because it's what Yuuri uses, and Otabek kind of picks up on that and switches from 'they' to 'he'. he used 'they' initially to refer to Yuri and Chris for two reasons:
> 
> 1) Otabek was raised to not assume a person's pronouns (this has a good reason, dont worry)  
> 2) he legit could not fucking tell what gender chris or yuri were supposed to be. trans yuri tag is here for a reason, and chris is, well... very femme in other ways.
> 
> Also! fairies will go by different names with diff people unless they have a special perma-name like Chris or Mila. The Aurora and Omelette are, ofc, nicknames, and Yuuri would call these people something different.
> 
> Yuuri, btw, calls Yuri kitten in Russian. That's very much Viktor's fault.
> 
>    
> if any of you managed to guess the Usurper was JJ i'm giving you a pat on the back cause so far no one pointed it out lmao
> 
>  
> 
> aaaand thats all my notes for today i hope you enjoyed, make sure to tell you friends about this fic, post about it on social media and also @ me on tumblr or twitter @Goombella123 because fuck dude i like talking to people about yoi. ok.
> 
> have a nice day/night yall. seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: 24/02/17: adjusted author's notes, fixed typo with chris's name, general cleanup which tOOK ME HOURS BECAUSE FUCKIN HELL THIS LONG ASS CHAPTER WAS A MISTAke


	8. Viktor

Viktor is a terrible singer. Absolutely awful, and he always has been. For someone who’s had literally hundreds of years to practice, you’d think he’d at least be _decent_ by now.

 

But he’s not. Even his _dog_ hates his singing, and that’s saying something, because Makkachin puts up with a lot.

 

Which means that his awful warbling is the _perfect_ way to piss the guards off.

 

The humans who watch over him groan whenever he starts up a new song- in this instance, he picks an operatic aria so far out of his vocal range poor old Makka could probably hear it a whole realm away.  Standing in front of his dingy cell, one of the guards is forced to drop their spear and clasp their armored hands around their head at the noise. The metal clatters to the ground and echoes far too loudly.

 

“Will you STOP IT, PLEASE!” They yelp, voice muffled and echoed in their tin helmet. Viktor pauses in his off-key singing, and whines from where he sits on the dripping stone floor.

 

“Aww, but I was getting to the good part.” he pouts.

 

“The ‘good part’ is when you learn not to butcher _Stammi Vicino_.” The other guard mutters. They never break position, though they don’t seem overly serious or committed.

 

For want of conversation, Viktor gasps, and clutches the prison bars in pretend excitement. It’s four parts an act to annoy his captors, and six parts nothing but complete and utter boredom from looking at the same walls for too long.

 

“You know the song?!” he says.

 

The guard barely tilts their head to survey him, arms folded over their own spear- and they half reply.

 

“Your Italian is rubbish.” They- he- says, in a heavy accent.

 

 _Ah_ , Viktor grins. _Do I get extra points for butchering the language, too?_

 

The guard (probably) rolls their eyes as their tortured companion kneels to the ground.

 

“Jeez.” The spear-dropping human mumbles. “I thought this guy was supposed to be a King! A powerful one, too.”

 

The Italian guard scoffs.

 

“The only power he has here is to make your ears bleed, Emil.”

 

 _And that’s where you’re wrong_ , Viktor thinks. He mightn’t have spent hundreds of years training his vocals, but Viktor had mastered the art of being incredibly, unrelentingly _annoying_ when he was bored. He releases his grip on the cell bars with an overly dramatic sigh, and kicks up one of his long legs- folding it over his other in perfect form.

 

“I’m plenty powerful, sure…” he purrs. “but you should see _my_ Yuuri~”

 

He makes sure to drag out his husband’s name as long and as sweetly as he can. It gets him what he wants.

 

“-Alright, shift switch, I’m not putting up with this again.” The Italian guard immediately turns from Viktor’s cell and walks away as soon as he hears the name _Yuuri_ , armor clanking further and further down the catacomb halls.

 

Viktor snorts. _Too easy._

 

“Mickey, wait!” the second guard (Emil?) calls, but his comrade is long gone. There’s nothing he can do but run half-hazardly after him, tottering like a baby in all of his armor.

 

It makes Viktor laugh, and he’s as musical as any fairy- though he supposes there’s no one here to hear him. Guards aside, only Fair Folk can hear the bells, and Almaty has long been purged of his kind.

 

Well, it _used_ to be a mingling place for humans and fairies. Viktor supposes that’s why Leroy made it a target.

 

His pealing laughter is lost to the echoes of the dungeon. It’s dim, and Viktor can’t tell if it’s night or day- but if he sticks his hand out juuuust _right_ , the light of a single, low torch can catch him.

 

He doesn’t like to do this when the guards are around. Viktor waits until between shifts, or until he can distract them. Holding his hand out like this and gazing at the ring on his finger feels like something far too intimate for another’s eyes. It’s a feeling he can’t explain, but to put it one way- it’s like he’s kissing Yuuri with his fingers, holding hands from another time and realm. Like through their matching golden bands, they’re intrinsically and eternally linked. And though Viktor can’t actually see his husband- he hopes that from safety, Yuuri is holding out his hand too, and thinking of him.

 

Because Yuuri is certainly never far from Viktor’s thoughts.

 

…He’d chosen a bad time to get married to him, huh?

 

Leroy was using Viktor as a hostage right now, if anything. Viktor was coldly aware of that fact. He can only hope that Yuuri- or whoever was foolish enough come after him- wouldn’t fall for his trap.

 

 

Viktor supposes, in some ways, this was his mess. He had to take _some_ responsibilities as King.

 

\---

 

 As much as he mourns for the brain cells he’s losing with every minute of each day, for so little in the ways of entertainment - Viktor mourns more for his husband.

Yuuri is alone with Makkachin and (hopefully) his High Guard, Christoph. Yuuri would be missing Viktor as much as Viktor misses him and, gods, who _knows_ if the _Kotenok_ managed to make it back. The other odd puzzle piece of their makeshift family- Yuuri would be worried about him, too.

 

He hopes that he’s alright, after what he did. Viktor was inclined to call them a fool for that. Brave, but a fool.

 

The King wasn’t there for it, but he’d seen the Altin girl frozen in the throne room at the time he was escorted in- and a churning part of his useless stomach prayed that he’d never have to see the frozen child’s body again. Another part prayed that the _Kotenok’s_ decision was worth it, and a third, rather odd part hoped that the escaped Prince of Almaty could forgive his _Kotenok_. After all, what he did was for the Prince. Though Viktor is unsure why that particular train of thought so often occurs to him.

 

He wonders if, without his knowledge, the two of them had met.

 

They’d make an unlikely pair.

 

As for everything else- Viktor heard it from the guards, and from the mice that whispered throughout the catacombs. They told of the _Kotenok’s_ deeds in the Fall of the Almaty, and the death of the Altin Family like he was folklore legend. It almost amuses Viktor- he’s sure the younger fairy would hate it, having stories told about him.

 

\---

 

 When Viktor isn’t thinking about Yuuri, or eavesdropping, or singing as terribly as he can or daydreaming about people who may or may not ever meet- he’s laughing to himself about his own thoughts; because he’s accepted that he’s not as bright as he thinks he is, and no one can hear his bells. Yuuri would find him amusing. Yuuri always does. _Kotenok_ too, though for him it’s expressed less through blushes and discreet kisses and more through vomit noises, rolled eyes and occasional anger.

 

Call him childish, if you will, or un-kingly- but Viktor misses home.

 

That feeling isn’t wholly unpleasant, though. One needs a home to go back to for one to miss it.

 

And Viktor isn’t about to take that for granted.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil bit of an interlude before next chapter. hope u enjoyed this (kind of sad) viktuuri and also knowing that vitya is ok!! (i felt bad cause some of u seemed worried for him and im like aAA no hes mostly fine i promise.)
> 
> remember, if u like this fic- recommend it! post about it! anything! share it with ur buddies and the rest of the fandom, my guys! i appreciate all of u who have been following this and loved it so far- yall are the best <3
> 
> ps: i wish i could do viktuuri interactions better because viktor is really fun to write. he's that balance of serious and silly even tho he's hardly ever straightforward. god im love him.


	9. Memories

Yuuri Katsuki’s ability to calm himself after sobbing his eyeballs out was impressive. His red-tinged gaze and somber expression were the only evidence that anything had happened at all.

 

And for that, Otabek feels filthy.

 

He doesn’t blame Christoph for slinking away- what the knight had just witnessed was a moment never meant for his eyes, testament in the way both Yuri and Yuuri Katsuki composed themselves once their tears had stopped. Katsuki adjusts his glasses- and finally noticing Otabek, he diplomatically folds his hands behind his back and straightens. The man dips into a short bow, and though a little stunned, Otabek returns it politely.

 

“Your Highness.” He says, and Katsuki- through a quiet sniffle- raises an eyebrow.

 

“You know me?” he asks.

 

With a nod, Otabek replies. “I do. Yuri has told me of you and your husband on our journey.”

 

He hopes he’s not being overly formal, but an ingrained part of Otabek is telling him this is how to behave. After all- Katsuki is royalty, and royalty expected politeness… probably. A beat of silence passes where Otabek worries, bent over in his bow. His Highness frowns deeply at him, and squints.

 

“…Who’s Yuri?” he says.

 

Katuski rolls the word in his mouth strangely, the ‘R’ sounding too much like an ‘L’ for Otabek’s ears. It takes that- plus Yuri’s rapidly reddening face in the corner of his eye- for Otabek to realize his mistake.

 

“He means me.” Yuri mumbles, and they tug on their reddened, running nose.

 

Katsuki immediately splutters. His regal persona cracks, limbs almost flailing as he squawks.

 

“You STOLE my name?!” Katsuki cries, and he jabs a finger almost accusingly at Yuri, who stands stunned. He’s like a chicken with the way he flaps about. “Out of everything in the world, _Kotenok_ -!“

 

Otabek dashes in between them, his raises his hands in defence.

 

“It was your name or mine.” he says quickly. “I wasn’t aware that Yuri’s name would be an issue when I picked it. I hope… no hard feelings, your highness?” Otabek finishes awkwardly.

 

The title jerks the older man out of his state with a deep inhale, and an exhale out. It’s a quick-snap back to his formal position, elite airs and gestures raised.

 

“None at all” Katsuki breathes, frames askew on his face. “But, uh- it may be best to give Yuri a nickname. To avoid confusion between us.”

 

And then, under his breath- “It’s weird saying my own name out loud.”

 

The Halfling tilts his glasses in thought, a hand resting on the side of his face as he paces. Then, suddenly, he stops with a finger raised- “How about ‘Yurio’?” he suggests.

 

And ‘Yurio’ chokes on seemingly nothing, pounding a hand into their chest as they cough and splutter.

 

“Fuck no-!”

 

“’Yurio’ it is!” Katsuki cheers, in spite of them.

 

Oh boy.

 

Yuri’s protests are like a white-noise squeal in the background as Katsuki addresses Otabek. Their voices echo in the cathedral hall, and the man stands firm under the Fairy King’s gaze.

 

“Speaking of names- I never got yours.” Katsuki says casually. With no deal of uncertainty and hesitation, Otabek stammers out a reply.

 

“O-Otabek Altin, sir.”  He says.

 

Katsuki frowns. “…Oh. How old are you?”

 

“Nineteen, your highness.”

 

“And your last name again?”

 

“...Altin?”

 

Katsuki’s eyes practically grow to the size of his head.

 

It’s with a sinking heart, Otabek realizes, that no one is ever pleased to see him. The more he learns about himself, and the more he’s able to share, the more people’s looks turn to speculative frowns and whispers of confusion. Katsuki looks at him like one would look at a lost child- not unkindly so, but with a great deal of shock- and he holds out his hand for him, straight.

 

“My apologies, then, Otabek. Or, rather... _Prince_ Otabek. Thank you for bringing Yuri home safe.”

 

The cathedral goes deathly quiet.

 

A sickness starts in Otabek’s gut. Like his headaches, like his magic, like the nightmare and like how he feels when Yuri cries.

 

_Prince Otabek._

 

He thinks he heard that right.

 

“A Prince, your Highness?” he stammers.

 

Katsuki nods, arm still raised. “W-well. I think so. I wasn’t particularly _involved_ in politics, but I do remember the name of Almaty’s crown Prince. He was your age, had the last name Altin… and was rumoured to be a Halfling.” He says.

 

Otabek doesn’t know what to say.

 

 So he says “…I see.”

 

He doesn’t see. He’s incredibly, terrifyingly confused. A Prince _and_ a Halfling?

 

No one wonder the Usurper King was out for his head. He takes the man’s hand nevertheless, shaking it firmly.

 

Otabek’s introduction to Yuuri Katsuki was not so different than it was to his meeting the man’s family, all those weeks ago. Like then, Otabek was left with more questions than he started with. Katuski seems to see this on Otabek’s face, and he releases their handshake with a solemn sigh.

 

“You have questions, I can tell.”

 

“Many.”

 

“Yuri didn’t tell you anything.”

 

It’s not quite a query, so Otabek doesn’t answer it. From the side of his vison, Yuri’s deep, green eyes grow wide, as they grow guilty. It _stabs_ at him, right in the core. Like glass, he supposes. Yuri cuts him.

 

He almost thinks he sees fairy mouth an apology, but it could well be a play of the light.

 

“Yurio.” Katsuki says, stern. “You are dismissed for now.”

 

Yuri’s eyes snap up, and they go stiff at Katsuki’s word.

 

“Where am I supposed to go?” they say.

 

“Anywhere. Make yourself comfortable.” Katsuki commands. “His highness and I need to talk.”

 

It takes Otabek all of a good minute to register that ‘ _His Highness’_ means _him_.

 

Yuri leaves begrudgingly, printed feet scuffing the cathedral halls. The room, once again, is quiet without them. Otabek doesn’t know what he expected, but he’s vaguely surprised that the fairy looks back. Yuri’s eyes scan the room one last time- to Katsuki, in his annoyance, and to Otabek, with an apologetic look that the prince can’t quite place.

 

The giant, oak doors close without a word from them. For something so large, they move without a sound, closing without protest. To Otabek, it seems almost uncharacteristic.

 

Katsuki inhales deeply.

 

He’s trying to be composed. Trying to keep a steady voice- when he turns to face him, Otabek can see very plainly what he’s feeling. A scowl, and tears- fresh- behind his glasses, threatening to spill behind his big, brown eyes. The King turns away from Otabek, then. He walks away from him, too, towards the end of the room where- underneath a flowery, frozen tapestry- sits a pair of thrones.

 

Katsuki removes his oversized, furred cloak, and hands it gently over the second of the two seats- the larger one, made of gold and hard ice and all things that sparkled. Yuuri Katsuki parts with the garment tenderly, hand lingering over the soft, fluffy material. Without the cloak, he looks wholly un-regal, and in some ways, almost vulnerable.

 

He gives the throne a last, lingering look before re-joining Otabek by the doors. Katsuki’s tone is tender when he speaks- like he’s treading a bed of flowers, bare-footed. To spare Otabek’s feelings or his own, the prince isn’t sure.

 

“Follow me.” He says quietly. “I have something to show you.” 

 

 

 

\---

 

 

The Fairer Realm may be in an eternal spring, but the clouds beginning to roll over the horizon told Otabek that it wasn’t immune to poor weather.

 

“Snow?” he asks, and Katsuki shakes his head.

 

“Rain.” The king amends. “Which is why we need to hurry.”

 

Otabek murmurs under his breath. “The last fairy I followed tried to kill me.” He says. “and the second, threatened to.”

 

Katsuki looks back at him- shooting a somewhat amused, half-glance as he walks ahead. Springy green grass bends under his sandaled steps, barely making a sound where he treads.

 

“You’ll be glad I’m a Halfling, then.” Katsuki says. “I’m not so inclined to be vague, or murderous.”

 

\---

 

Yuuri Katsuki takes Otabek to a frozen lake.

 

“So much for eternal spring.” Otabek mutters aloud.

 

He can feel it- in the air, the distinct chill of winter that he’d departed from in the Human world. It’d be cold enough to make one violently shiver- Otabek, of course, feels none of it.

 

Katsuki hums in acknowledgement.

 

“Viktor is notable for a certain… niche, when it comes to Ice Magic.” He says. “ _Kotenok_ \- Yuri and I were his disciples.”

 

There’s a pile of rocks by the iced-over water, lightly dusted by powder snow. Katsuki motions to them, inviting Otabek to sit down. He does. The king pushes up on his glasses- and he raises a foot, balancing expertly on one leg while lifting the other to chest-level, as he continues the conversation.

 

“Viktor keeps the lake frozen so we can train whenever we need. In a fight, of course, we’d make our own Ice just as easy.”

 

The king runs a hand down his calf gently, over to cup his foot- and sliding from his heel to his toe in a practiced motion, a shimmering blade of ice forms on the sole of his shoe. He repeats the action on his other foot as he continues to explain.

 

“This is a lot more convenient for just skating.” He says.

 

Katsuki squints as he straightens- and Otabek wonders how thick and sharp the ice on his feet must be to sustain his weight. Skating certainly explains his physique- Katsuki was surprisingly muscular, in the way that only a soldier should be, for a strength born from intense training for combat. His thigh, in particular were impressive, and the man certainly showed them off in his short pants. Katsuki stands on skates as like it’s a natural thing to do- like he was born with ice under his feet. Once again, he speaks.

 

“Skating isn’t necessary for our magic, but the motions of the spell- the feeling of the ice- it... it helps you tell a story."  He explains. "it makes you stronger."

 

“So it’s like ballet.” Otabek guesses.

 

“A little.” Katsuki shrugs. “The Royal Family and I are classically trained, as well as our guards. But skating is… different,  to simple dance. It can do things that other forms can’t.” He says, and clicking his heels, Katsuki deftly turns to waltz onto the ice.

 

Otabek swallows.

 

“Is that what you’re showing me?" he asks "What the ice can do, that Yuri can’t?”

 

As Katsuki steps out, he breathes in deeply. His skates scratch on the ice with a slow, surprisingly satisfying sound until he comes to a stop. When he does, he addresses Otabek with all seriousness.

 

“…Not quite. Yuri hasn’t been fair to you.” The king says, tone low and demanding for rapt attention. Otabek’s heart sinks. “You’re missing half of your life, and the one person who could have helped you, didn’t. He lied to you, Prince Otabek.”

 

Otabek clasps his hands over his lap.

 

“You’re mad at him.” he mumbles, and Katsuki’s harsh expression softens, ever so slightly.

 

“Because I know how you’d feel.” He says kindly. The prince balls his fists over his knees from where he sits, watching the King’s husband look at him and his situation with genuine empathy. Yuuri Katsuki may be an anxious man, but he seemed kind- and deep down, there ran the confidence a ruler. He was powerful in his own right.

 

Someone trustworthy.

 

Yet Otabek lies to him. He and Yuri, in some ways, were very alike.

 

“…I’m fine.” He says.

 

Katuski sighs.

 

He runs a hand through his dark raven hair, slicking it back with a glimmer. His magic freezes it in place, and quietly, he tucks his glasses away.

 

“I’m going to tell you everything I can, Otabek.” he says, and the prince doesn’t let the lack of title slip. He’s pointedly ignoring anything Otabek says to try and stop him. Otabek doesn’t _want_ his memories back. He didn’t want to know that he was a Halfling, or a prince, or have any of the responsibility he has now.

 

The universe isn’t giving him a choice in the matter.

 

 

“Watch closely. I’m going to show you what happened in Almaty.”

 

 

And without warning, Yuuri Katsuki pushes off the ice, and he skates.

 

 

\---

 

The memory-version of Yuuri Katsuki spits, chest heaving and coming up with blood.

 

A tall, pale man stands in his constant vision- bound by invisible chains that seared into his skin, and burned him. He could scream from where he’s bound- but he doesn’t. He looks like he wants to. The man’s massive, golden wings are dull from where they peek out under his regal fur coat, and he stays morbidly silent. His mouth hangs open a little, though- eyes twice as wide in utter fear as Jean-Jacques Leroy makes his mark on Yuuri’s back.

 

“Not so fun seeing us _Humans_ stoop your level, is it? Open the gate.” The Usurper sneers. Yuuri is barely able to cough out an answer.

 

“No.”

 

Leroy digs his heel into Yuuri’s bruised form, forcing a drawn-out, wheezing breath from the impact.

 

_(in the real world, Otabek sees this and shudders. Katuski’s movements are stiff as he dances across the ice, like with the magic tale he weaves he’s reliving every moment. His arms curve in a downward spiral, glittering all the while- then time, in the story, skips, and the scene vaguely shifts like a dream with the motions of ice and snow across Katsuki’s arms.)_

 

“Oi, shithead!”

 

 _(and there’s no actual voice, per say- but Otabek knows exactly who that is. His heart skips a beat_.)

 

Leroy lifts his weight off Yuuri’s back, the man still held to the ground by the pain, by the weight of the situation. The green-eyed fairy stands tall of it, and-

 

_(Katuski glides so gracefully across the ice, it steals Otabek’s breath)_

 

 _-_ the fairy’s wings stand tall of it, too. They exude, in their gossamer weaving, a quiet power. Like a butterfly with the potential to set a city ablaze, or to freeze it in its tracks. It certainly freezes JJ, the Usurper, with a hand on his hip and a cocky smile set upon his face.

 

“I’m sorry, but are you lost?” he drawls. “What’s a little lady like you doing here, all alone in Almaty?”

 

_(Yuuri skates with bloodcurdling aggression.)_

 

“Leave my family alone.” Yuri snarls.

 

_(And- oh. As he goes for a jump, Yuuri falters. Otabek can’t name any of the moves that Katsuki performs, but he’s sure that one was under-rotated. His magic never once fizzles out, though, glittering frost with the sparks of ice when his foot impacts the lake. There’s another seeming skip in the story, but it’s gripping Otabek in a chokehold- no matter what, he can’t look away from the ice, from the way Katsuki and his magic moves and weaves a blizzard into a frost-bitten memory.)_

 

“My life for theirs.” Green Eyes says solemnly. “Let Viktor and Yuuri go, and you can use me as you will.”

 

The fairy holds out a porcelain, icy hand to Leroy- who all but glares at them with devious, baseless contempt.

 

It’s like watching an angel sign a contract to hell.

 

_(Katsuki skates like his memory is fuzzy- the magic has a haze around the edges that Otabek recognizes distinctly. The next words are heard, or seen rather, through half-lidded eyes and over the shouting of the golden-winged, fur-coated fairy. They’re running away, Otabek realizes. With a jump that ends in a fall Katsuki barely recovers from, Otabek sees that. A twist of his hand, a dip of his head, and the name Viktor- the pale fairy speeding away, as fast as he can. They look back, and the memory continues.)_

 

“Deal.” Leroy says.

 

_(It was a sacrifice. Yuri bought Viktor and Katsuki an escape, at their own expense.)_

 

_(Otabek opens his mouth to speak, but the dance isn’t done. Hands raised like a prayer, Katsuki swirls across the lake with an unspeakable sorrow. The blizzard he’d created is picking up, fast- he enters into a deathly, mind spinning spiral, and his magic, like flames, swirls. Time seems to stop entirely.)_

 

 

\---

 

Otabek has been here before.

 

He’s in the throne room, in Almaty- with its aged stones walls and golden-teal tapestry. The symbol on Yuri’s cloak is plastered everywhere. He’s… in his own head, but Otabek isn’t sure how. He can no longer see Katsuki, or the frozen lake, or his magic clouding his eyes and flooding him with memories that weren’t his own. This memory very much belonged to Otabek. He looks around, and besides himself, Prince Otabek recognizes the people he sees.

 

One is his sister.

 

She’s not weeping- not yet, anyway, but someone’s got her tiny wrist in their solid, menacing grip. Her face shows no emotion.

 

That person- barely lifting her off the ground, her long, royal dress just scraping the floor- is Jean Jacques Leroy.

 

JJ smiles.

 

“Come on, Your Highness. I don’t want to hurt one of my own kind!” he says.

 

“Then let her go” Otabek finds himself growling through tight-pulled teeth. He can’t move, and that’s not unfamiliar. But his voice, his voice that was his and yet not his simultaneously- spilling from his bloodied lips without his consent- made him nauseous already. It felt wrong. It hurt. He wanted it to stop.

 

Leroy shrugs, tilting his head dimly to the side. In his hold, his half-sister doesn’t yelp, even when she’s jostled by the human man’s movements. Her eyes are fixed solely on Otabek, peering into his core- her mouth moves, barely, to offer hushed reassurance. She’s not scared, Otabek thinks. She’s sad, deeply sad, but never scared.

 

She couldn’t have been any older than the age of ten.

 

_Does she know what’s coming?_

 

“You’ve forced me into a corner, Otabek.” Leroy sighs. “The princess won’t tell me where her mommy went, and neither will you. So, until one of you talks…”

 

Otabek lurches forward- tries to, but Leroy snaps his fingers at the first sign of movement. The Prince grunts as he feels a light weight press down on him, enough to keep him floored. That weight is a person, and they wrap their slender fingers around Otabek’s hands like a vice, icy and shaking.

 

…Oh.

 

Yuri whispers something in his ear, but memory-Otabek doesn’t catch it. Future-Otabek, fearful and wanting for release in this nightmare, wishes desperately that he did. He wills the vision-version of himself to cling to Yuri, to cling to him and never let go. Because even if it’s dream, Otabek can feel it- can feel Yuri’s cold, tingling skin against his own. And he wants to, wants so much right now, to feel nothing but that. He wishes Yuri could have saved him.

 

Leroy speaks up with a dark chuckle, rumbling deep and malicious from his throat.

 

“So? What’ll be, Halfling Prince? You wouldn’t let your sister… get hurt, just to save your mom’s skin, would you? No one is worth that much sacrifice.” He sneers.

 

And before Memory-Otabek can open his mouth, he hears someone else speak- with all the confidence and calmness of a queen, and the levelness of a priest.

 

“You’d do it for Isabella.” Otabek’s sister says.

 

_She’s just a child._

 

A child who knows which nerves to hit.

 

Otabek’s chest seizes as Leroy throws her to the ground. He doesn’t do anything other than that- the Princess grunts with the impact of the smooth stone floor against her body.

 

“Kill her.” Leroy hisses. It’s the slight way that his voice hitches and shakes that catches Otabek off guard. The weakness in the Usurper’s façade.

 

It doesn’t stop memory-Otabek from screaming out, though- voice hoarse and bloodied in his throat.

 

“Leave her alone!” he yells, and for added, desperate measure- “Leave my family alone!”

 

The Otabek of now feels past-Yuri shudder, where their thin body is pressed into him. The fairy has still got him in a hold- and Otabek has to wonder. His wings, from what he saw in Katsuki’s skate, were glorious- full of passion, power and magic.

 

Here, they drooped. Even looked a little smaller than before.

 

And Yuri’s eyes are like liquid glass.

 

Otabek doesn’t hear what JJ calls him, but the man addresses Yuri. “Kill her. Now.” He says, and his voice is strained thin, commanding. Yet Yuri doesn’t move an inch. His hands tighten on Otabek’s wrists, eyes quivering.

 

“I said, _now_!”

 

The suddently, Yuri’s body twists, and he groans- he coils, wings shriveling under the pain and pressure Leroy has over him. His hold on Otabek fails, and when the pain subsides, the fairy has no choice but to rise to their feet. Otabek is yelling, he knows, and Yuri staggers over to Leroy and the Princess.

 

Hands outstretched, the frost over the fairy’s arm begins to dance.

 

 

Leroy… was controlling him. The Prince of Almaty knew this.

 

Yet, as his half-sister’s eyes widen with fear and Yuri’s magic, at their tips of his fingers, crackles- Otabek feels like he’s the one being frozen to ice. There’s a deep stabbing in his gut that not even the guilt, the plea in past-Yuri’s eyes can amend.

 

For a second time, Otabek watches his sister die.

 

 

\---

 

 

And then just as suddenly, he’s galloping- cloak emblazoned with his kingdom’s crest fluttering behind him. He’s got a good distance between him and Almaty, but memory-Otabek and the Otabek of now both know it’s not far enough. From this odd, other-worldly third perspective, the Prince can see all of what happened. It’s still a shock when it comes, though- in real time, ice spurts from his chest and blood from his head as he falls. His skull makes a dull, sickening impact with the ground, and just like that, Otabek Altin is dead.

 

Looking away from himself, from his own crumpled body, Otabek can see a figure standing in the bushes. And _of_ _course,_ it’s him. Of course, JJ tailed him. The one with him is a fairy- a tiny, glowing light, and they’re clearly the one responsible for the Ice. Their flashing body shines with frost.

 

Leroy purrs to them. “See? Wasn’t that hard. And now that the contract is up! You can go free.”

 

JJ shrugs, a chuckle spilling from his lips. He raises a hand in farewell to the fairy, as he turns to leave.

 

“See you around, Green Eyes.” He calls- and like that, he’s gone.

 

 

Otabek’s vision finally cuts out as he feels a hand ghost over his face. Yuri’s eyes bore into his very soul, like the eyes of his sister in her last moments. The fairy’s thumb strokes in long, soothing motions, and Otabek is almost convinced that this didn’t actually happen. That his brain was amending the memory with what he wished, because Yuri wouldn’t do this.

 

Prince Otabek Altin, as his vision and Yuri’s feather-light, tender touches fade, feels his heart absolutely shatter. It splits, like his skull, and it’s pierced with a pain worse than Yuri’s icicles exploding forth from his chest.

 

Otabek had thought he’d felt nothing as he died.

 

He knew now, that was wrong.

 

 

\---

 

 

Eventually, it rains in the Fairer Realm.

 

The trees that lined perfect pathways with fruits and flowers drip slowly, and all at once. It’s fitting, Yuri thinks. He’s had it a long time coming.

 

The place is still beautiful this way, of course. The pitter-patter of raindrops over leaves, dewdrops on the ground, is just another part of it. It’s the parts that are missing that get to him. It’s the complete and utter absence of Bells that make Yuri so deeply uncomfortable- and now, a new kind of discomfort in solitude. The kind that involves a certain Halfling Prince, who may have just only found out that he was both of those things from Yuuri Katsuki because Yuri was too much of a coward to admit he knew for weeks.

 

Yeah. He already knows he fucked up. Fucked up bad.

 

He knows it’s his own fault, because he was too terrified of hurting his only friend for a second time. Yuri didn’t mean to take his memories- but at the time, he considered it a stroke of luck.

 

They could start over.

 

Now look at them. Yuri’s wingless, Otabek’s presumably _remembered_ things he should have been told about ages ago, Katsuki’s a sobbing mess and probably angry at Yuri because that man is a fucking angry crier like his husband-

 

And speak of the devil, Viktor is absolutely fucking nowhere to be seen. Yuri presumes him dead, like the other half of his Clan at this point. Fucking JJ, fucking contracts, fucking bullshit war on Almaty he wanted no part in. Fuck it. Fuck all of this.

 

What is the point now, anyway? Otabek has nothing to gain from Yuri. No-one does. He’s nothing without his magic, and even without his Ice Yuri’s hurt people. Hurt himself.

 

The rain isn’t letting up anytime soon.

 

Yuri likes to think that it’s a sign Viktor is still out there- he controls this place, after all. Weather and everything. The rain could be a divine punishment to Yuri for being a dickhead. Or it could be his tears. Angry crier. The King was a crier generally, when he was in private. Yuri barely glances up- though every few minutes, he’s checking the horizon. He doesn’t blame Beka if he doesn’t come back to find him. Yuri doesn’t mind if the Prince leaves him behind.

 

“So. You have a name, now.”

 

It’s with an exasperated groan that Yuri is interrupted by a chirping, youthful voice.

 

Yuri supposes calling them- her- ‘Hag’ won’t cut it anymore. But that’s not gonna stop him from doing it. The blonde pulls his knees close to his chest, and leans back onto the trunk of the solid oak tree.

 

It reminded him of the tree Beka died under. That’s morbid as fuck to think about, but it’s a fact.

 

“Same to you, _Baba_ ” Yuri grumbles. “How’d you come up with your dumb name, anyway?”

 

From where she stands over him, Mila tosses her short, red hair. It was long when he last saw her- when did she cut it?

 

Yuri supposes, at least, visibility won’t be a problem anymore- which was a good thing for a soldier like her. And there’s no fiddling with hair ties like Viktor or Yuri. She wasn’t royalty. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about her appearance like they did- not in a fight.

 

Yuri isn’t about to tell her that, though, or tell her that it looks nicer short. Any inflation to her ego was damage to his. That’s how it’s always been. And even after years of being apart, of not even knowing if she was fucking _alive_ or not, things are familiar between them. Mila rolls her shoulders, like she’s stretching out her tiny, sheer-veined wings, and pulls her lips into a devious smile.

 

“You’re not the only one to come back with a Halfling, _Yuri_.” She purrs. The way she says his name makes the blonde borderline nauseous. “Why don’t you introduce me to him?”

 

A drop of rain falls on Yuri’s hand, filtered through the oak’s low-hanging branches.

 

“You’re almost as bad as Giacometti, you know that?” He grumbles, and Mila whines into his ear as she leans down, draping herself over his shoulders. The flowers lining her collar and in her hair are making him fucking itchy, and Yuri wants to sneeze.

 

“Aww. Your human seems nice, though.” She whines.

 

“Which is why I’m keeping you ten feet away from him.” Yuri snaps. He shrugs her off, jerking his shoulders irritably. “Katsuki has him hostage right now, anyway. Good luck getting a hold of him.”

 

Mila straightens, lifting off her weight. “Really? His Highness didn’t interrogate my Sara when we arrived.”

 

Yuri snorts. “Your Sara, huh?” he mutters.

 

“Well, I-“ Mila pouts, folding her arms over her barely covered chest. “She named me, and... she’s the reason I escaped, back in Almaty. That has to count for something, and we’ve been through a lot. Am I not allowed to call her mine?”

 

Yuri’s knees are still drawn close to him, and he’s not moving anytime soon.

 

_Humans bleed. Humans die. Worse, humans change their minds. Nothing with them lasts._

 

“It’s dumb. That’s all.”

 

 These past few weeks with Otabek have been like a do-over. For all his cynicism, Yuri hopes that this time, Otabek can forgive him- hopes he could be a better person for him. He doesn’t expect it. Just… wishes. And it’s a fucking stupid wish- even if does happen, Yuri can never erase what he did, or the guilt from it.

 

 

“When _your_ Sara breaks your heart-” Yuri mumbles into his arm. “-don’t come crying to me.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally one big chapter, but it was 6000 words so i split it. hope u enjoyed this story dump. theres a lot of shit to take in here.
> 
> expect the second half very, very soon!
> 
> (yknow im being super casual about this, but this chapter is like. the first time we meet JJ. nice)


	10. Home

“Where are you going?”

 

Where _is_ he going? Nowhere, apparently, since Otabek can barely stand. He wobbles on his feet, and- how is Katsuki so calm?

 

“Prince Otabek, are you-?”

 

_For fucks sake._

 

“No. I’m not.” He growls. “I’m not ok.”

 

Katsuki withers. The man has his glasses back on now, looking more timid than ever. He’s got a hand threaded through his hair, tugging at the overgrown black strands as he stammers.

 

“Y-you… I’m sorry.” He says. “But I needed to… it wasn’t… Your Highness, I need you.”

 

“You need me.” Otabek repeats, and the ‘your highness’ part, in Yuri’s words, can go fuck itself. “What are you on about?”

 

Yuuri Katsuki continuously proves to be a genuine man. For example- the look on his face, the hand in his hair and the guilt in his eyes tells Otabek he genuinely feels bad for what just happened. For making Otabek relive… whatever that was. Leroy’s voice still echoes in the back of his mind.

 

_See you around, Green Eyes._

 

The burn of ice in his chest crawls up his throat, like bile.

 

He’s angry.

 

Otabek’s fingers dig into his legs, his legs that refuse to move from the snow-covered rocks like they’d frozen there, stuck. He’s hurt and he’s shattered and all that but to anyone listening- and it’s incredibly uncharacteristic of him- when he speaks, Otabek sounds like he’s going to cry.

 

Face blank in this blizzard of feeling, he quavers.

 

“Why would you do that?” he whispers, broken.

 

_Why would you make me remember that?_

_Why would you put yourself through remembering that?_

_What is there to gain from this?_

 

The answer, Otabek learns, is that Yuuri Katsuki is selfish.

 

Katsuki’s eyes grow firm, and he takes a deep breath when he speaks. “Because you know Almaty, inside and out.” He says.

“Locked up in your memories are mental maps of the town, of the castle- nearly everything. I need you to get inside Almaty. And I need you- specifically you- to get Viktor back.”

 

A hardened, determined stare.

 

“I need you to take the throne from JJ.”

 

\---

 

Yuri’s got a lot of thinking to do before Otabek gets back. Once the rain lets up, he does as Chris suggested, and takes a tour of the Fair Realm (as opposed to a fly-over, of course. The fact that it took Giacometti that long to realise something wasn’t right with Yuri was fucking appalling, for a High Guard.)

 

In all honesty, Yuri can say that back here, barely anything has changed. That should be expected for a world that exists outside of time. Though the changes in the human world weren’t particularly dramatic, either- Yuri found that here, and in the other world, things tended to happen very slowly or all at once. Usually the former, followed by the latter in an explosive climax. Events that often involved Ice and Death and a lot of depressing shit that Yuri can add to his ‘list of things he never wants to think about but keeps fucking bringing up anyway’.

 

 He re-acquaints himself with a few people while he wanders. Like that wild kid with red hair who followed Katsuki here, and seemed to do nothing but screech like an excited baby bird around him. Or that fucking drama queen of a fairy who writes poetry and pines over women instead of doing anything actually useful- how they survived the onslaught of Almaty, Yuri will never have a fucking clue.

 

The blonde stumbles across an Onsen at some point, through pink-paths and dewy, green trees. It’s an open-air bath close to the bordering mountains, run on the heat of the earth rather than the heat of a human fire. Though Yuri supposes, if they’d needed to, the screeching bird-fairy would be more than happy to keep a constant fire burning, if Katsuki asked them to.

 

Said fairy- coincidentally- was present in the hot springs, when Yuri walked in. They were bathing, alongside the Halfling who named Mila.

 

Sara Crispino.

 

As much as Yuri needed a warm bath, he fucking _refused_ to do so with other people. Especially not with _them_.

 

He can hear the red-haired sprite’s conversation from behind shoji screens and a sliding door. It’s not particularly hard to pick up on when you’re used to their accent- which Yuri certainly is. He places a hand against the dividing fabric. The sprite’s sheer volume and enthusiasm can’t be mistaken.

 

“You look so… naked.” The energetic fairy gasps.

 

Yuri hears Crispino chuckle.

 

“That’s because I _am_ naked. So are you. This is a bathhouse.”

 

“Nooo… I meant like, without wings.” The fairy whines. In their shadows, Yuri can see the sprite run a hand over Cripino’s bare shoulder blades in awe.

 

He definitely does _not_ want to go in there now.

 

There’s no way he’s having that human-obsessed fucker prod and poke at his back, and squeal like he’s somebody’s _pet_. Hand leaving the screen, Yuri turns to walk away.

 

His shadow must have caught Crispino’s eye, though - because as the fairy leaves, she stares at him. Yuri makes the mistake of looking back.

 

Her striking, violet gaze holds things he doesn’t care to decipher.

 

 

\---

 

As the afternoon sun leaks across the sky, Yuri finds himself drawn to a very specific place. All day, in fact, feels like he’s been on a path to here- no matter where he went, this was always his destination.

 

Yuuri and Viktor’s home.

 

So he was their disciple, right? The school of Ice magic that Viktor dealt with was incredibly particular-  it would have been decades ago, now, that Viktor chose Yuri to pass his skills to.

 

The geezer never bothered to tell him he was the fucking _Prince of Ice_ before he agreed to their arrangement, though. He also never told Yuri that, twenty years down the track, he was going to upgrade from a Prince to a King, and _then_ fall in love with a fucking _Halfling_.

 

God. Yuri used to hate having to listen to them, on the occasions he hung out here. When it wasn’t Viktor and Yuuri locking lips for fucking _hours_ on end, it was all kinds of cutesy shit- pet names and pair skating sessions that, if Yuri had a functioning stomach at the time, would have made him nauseous.

 

…Though that’s not completely true. And if Yuri’s proven anything about himself, it’s that he’s a liar.

 

The fact that neither Viktor nor Yuuri were here was more depressing than it was a relief.

 

There’s some respite from the veil of utter shit that surrounds him, though- Makkachin is here. And by that, Yuri means that Makkachin is asleep on the floor by the entrance, looking as broken down as Yuri feels- for a dog. Yuri nudges the poodle awake with his foot (once he takes off his shoes, of course, laying his precious leopard boots by the entrance).

Makkachin’s fluffy ass doesn’t budge from the wood-panel floor, practically melding into the tacky carpet laid over it. They look up at Yuri with big, black eyes, through a wet gaze that doesn’t hold any of the enthusiasm a dog should have when a Person enters their space.

 

Makkachin isn’t displeased to see him- but if a dog could wish, Yuri bets five fucking gold that Makkachin was wishing Viktor had walked through the door instead of him. Because Yuri can relate.

 

So maybe it’s a little out of resentment towards the animal, and maybe it’s because his consciousness decides he’s not fucking depressed enough already- but Yuri mutters “tadaima” to the empty living room, like Katsuki always did.

 

The phrase is about meaningless as he feels.

 

 

\---

 

It wasn’t that often that Yuri fell asleep. But when he did, he always awoke in a weird, lethargic haze that had him stumbling around, disoriented.

 

Makkachin didn’t stir when he decided to use them as a makeshift pillow- so it seemed the dog wasn’t about to wake up for him now. Despite this, Yuri’s cautious. He stands on lead feet, creeps around the night-shaded lounge room with a haunting trepidation.

 

It’s late, and no one’s coming home.

 

Home?

 

The night is nothing, except for silent. No crickets, or animals or any other thing lives here unless it’s by Viktor’s design. And though Viktor isn’t here, this Realm remains in perfect order. Almost too perfect- without the clutter and chaos of the human world, it feels… empty.

 

Quiet, Yuri thinks, in a voice that isn’t quite his own. It’s quiet here.

 

Shuffling his bare feet, the fairy feels his skin brush against the wooden grain, against the woven carpet. He never noticed how thin- how delicate- his own body was, until he was exposed like this. Though Yuri knows that he’s never felt powerless. Not like he does now.

 

Since he was a child- however many decades ago- Yuri can remember holding frost at his fingertips. He remembers the tantrums, the out-of-control storms. And he remembers the old man who tempered him- who taught him ballet from books and encouraged him to skate, when all he asked for in return was the fairy’s company and a meal before bed. Someone to pass his life onto before he died.

 

(which, of course, he eventually did. )

 

Humans die.

 

He was never able to grasp that, as a child. The idea that someone could just… stop existing. He couldn’t understand why plants withered, why bugs stopped moving when you squashed them. Why Grandpa stopped coming to the frozen lake to watch him practise.

 

The fairy stops at the threshold of his old room. He brings a hand to the doorframe, nails digging into the plaster.

 

“Otabek.”

 

He whispers, and his voice nothing but a breath into the silent room.

 

Otabek’s shadow is a ghost, stretched long and wide by silver beams. His face obscured by the opposing darkness- on the crumpled sheets and old mattress, staring into the abandoned fields of the night. From his position on the bed by the window, he’s a revenant sight- he’s as still as a monk, unmoving, unblinking, swear-to-god unbreathing, too. Almost like he isn’t real. Ethereal as a ghost.

 

Yet, the shaking of his shoulders gives him away.

 

Are you ok? Yuri almost asks, but it’s a fucking dumb question. Of course he’s not ok. What happened is almost as stupid a question, because Yuri knows damn well what Katsuki told (or rather, showed) him.

 

So Yuri walks inside. Slowly, silently, and giving Otabek a chance to reject him, to tell him to go away. He has every right to, after all. Yuri killed his sister. Yuri killed him. And Yuri purposely neglected to tell him those things when Otabek forgot, because he was scared and incredibly fucking selfish.

 

Otabek doesn’t move. He doesn’t move- but what he does do is speak, in a wavering whisper.

 

“Green Eyes.”  He says.

 

Yuri stops.

 

He’s at the frame of the bed, an inch from where Otabek sits cross-legged on the mattress.

 

“That’s what he called you, right?” Otabek says again. “Green Eyes.”

 

Yuri swallows. His hands fall loose to his sides- unclenched, but still bearing of the tension in his body.

 

“Yeah. He did.”

 

Otabek hasn’t looked at him, yet. Yuri doesn’t know if he will. He’s still talking, though- Yuri doesn’t move for every note, every syllable from the prince’s rough timbre.

 

“I called you that, too, for a time. It was your eyes I noticed first.” He says.

 

Yuri breathes it in. Gulps his statement like it’s air, and he presses for more.

 

“…My eyes?”

 

A hand on the sheet, Otabek’s raises his head ever so slightly.

 

“You have piercing eyes. Like a soldier’s. But I think… a better analogy would be to glass.”

 

“Glass.”

 

It’s here that Otabek finally looks Yuri in the eye. He’s… tired. In the sense that he hasn’t slept, and that he’s been through a lot. It’s disheartening to see him this burnt out. Otabek was always the stronger one. The leader. The responsible one. The one to reign back Yuri’s tongue, or make sure he eats or sleeps.

 

The one who named him.

 

“It’s sharp. And though it can shatter or melt… all the same, glass can cut you.” Otabek says, locking deep, weary eyes with Yuri. It’s all Yuri takes to not flinch at the statement. He knows what he means.

 

“…I’m sorry, Beka.” The fairy whispers.

 

Otabek’s eyes crumple, though he never once looks away. “I know. This wasn’t your fault.” He says.

 

“I hurt you.”

 

“I’m not mad, Yuri.”

 

“Y-you should be.” Yuri stammers. He’s surprising himself with how his voice quavers, with how much he actually gives a shit about all this. With how much he cares about Otabek, what he thinks of him, how he feels-

 

“I hurt you and lied to you.”

 

“But you brought me this far-“ Otabek replies evenly. “You brought me back to life.”

 

Yuri clenches his fist, his teeth, narrows his eyes and he’s close to either screaming or bursting into a fucking puddle of tears.

 

“Then why are you upset?!” he says, almost yells it. “If it’s not me, then what-!”

 

And though Otabek opens his mouth, he doesn’t say a word. In any other time, any other situation, that would have frustrated the fairy to their cracking point.

 

But here, it doesn’t. Because this time, Otabek- strong, sure, reliable, Prince Otabek- breaks down into tears. The worst part is, he’s barely even sobbing. He’s quiet when he cries- no sniffling, no aching hiccups and throbbing. Just tears, like crystals, rolling down his face.

 

Yuri hates it already.

 

He’s seen Otabek in pain. He’s watched him fucking die, for fuck’s sake. But the last time he saw Otabek break, it was the day his sister died. And even then, Otabek didn’t cry.

 

Yuri’s throat constricts painfully. He’s got no fucking clue what to say. Or if he can fix this.

 

Letting out a uneven breath, the fairy takes Otabek’s hand in his- from where it’s digging holes in his old mattress, and it’s an impulse that he doesn’t know what else to do with. Yuri squeezes him gently, like he’s squeezing the sadness out of him. Appropriately, the tears flow harder when he does.

 

“Beka-“ Yuri whispers, though he’s not looking to start talking. He just says it- his name, like the single word can portray everything he’s feeling to him, everything Yuri wants Otabek to feel. The fairy climbs onto the bed, barely making a dip in weight when he sits, legs folded. His hand and Otabek’s rests between them- the prince never once taking his bleary eyes off of him.

 

“I didn’t want this.” Otabek murmurs, all hushed and shaky. “I didn’t want my memories back.”

 

It’s a revelation that genuinely confuses Yuri.

 

“Then why are you still here?” the fairy says- and not meanly so. “Isn’t that why you came with me in the first place? To get your memory back after what I did?”

 

Otabek shakes his head, scrubbing an eye with his free hand. His voice is almost pleading, when he speaks- he wants Yuri to understand. Yuri’s trying to.

 

“After the first nightmare,” Otabek murmurs. “I stopped caring about that. I thought… I’d be better off not knowing my past.”

 

“Then why did you stay?” Yuri asks. He shakes Otabek’s hand in his to push his point- the man’s arm flops around, but it ultimately, it achieves nothing. The night is still silent around them.

 

Eventually, though- the hand that Yuri’s been gripping so tight squeezes back. But there’s no answer from Otabek, and it’s beginning to frustrate him again.

 

“Beka, please.” The fairy begs.

 

Otabek’s eyes are drawn down. No longer making contact and no longer crying- Yuri can see clearly what he’s staring at, and it sends a little thrill through him. Their hands, interlocked over the crumpled sheets and bathed in silver through the window.

 

“How did we meet?” Otabek says, all of a sudden.

 

Yuri’s heart-racing daze scoots to a halt. “Huh?”

 

“Before Almaty fell.” Otabek continues, light and blissfully unaware. “I knew you before then.”

 

He didn’t realize, but their hold on each other had shifted. Otabek’s hand is a little further up Yuri’s arm, and they’re a closer together than the fairy thought.

 

“…How did you know?” Yuri breathes. Otabek shrugs- his eyes are still transfixed on where they’re linked.

 

“A guess.” He says. “In the memories Katsuki showed me, you seemed… hesitant. When you- uh- with my sister, you outright disobeyed him, at first.”

 

Him being JJ, Yuri supposes. And Otabek is right- Yuri hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, let alone kill them. Least of all, Otabek.

 

The fairy brings his other hand around, to run a thumb over where Otabek’s hand smoothed over his forearm, his wrist. He sighs at the motion, and at the shiver that goes through his skin and down his spine. At the way Otabek fully accepts his touch.

 

“Before this, we were… friends.” Yuri starts. “I was Viktor’s disciple, so he brought me along to diplomatic affairs. Since your mother was of our clan, your family were in close correspondence with us.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Since your father was a child.” Yuri replies. “Though I never met him. The last Ruler- Yakov- had a woman from Almaty as his bride. He wanted to establish a close relationship with your people, because of her.”

 

Otabek seems to be hanging off every word, though his eyes hold nothing intense. He’s soft. Fond, almost.

 

“So my mother was an Ice Fairy. And my Father was… the King.”

 

Yuri nods.

 

 “Do you think… Were they just political marriage?” Otabek asks.

 

That’s… an odd question.

 

“You asking me if they were in love?” Yuri snickers, and he swears his heart skips a beat when Otabek smiles. Just a little.

 

“It’s possible, right?” the Prince smirks.

 

“It is.” Yuri agrees. “I think… for a time, they were.”

 

Yuri considers ending it there- but the truth was the truth. Now, of all times, it needed to be said.

 

“…The King was heartbroken after your mother left him. Even after he remarried.”

 

“Why did she leave?”

 

Yuri shrugs. “No clue. But King Altin did some pretty awful things, after she left him.”

 

Otabek sobers pretty quickly. He doesn’t ask what, but Yuri tells him, regardless. He repeats to himself- the truth needed to be said.

 

“He executed a whole bunch of my people. Anyone who showed signs of being fae, really.” Yuri says.

 

Otabek’s eyes shoot up in alarm. “Then how did I-?”

 

“Some Halflings don’t have fae traits.” Yuri interrupts. “They can’t use magic, or hear bells. They’re basically normal humans, then. I thought you were like that- up until a couple of weeks ago. When we first met, I didn’t even know you were the fucking Prince!”

 

Yuri’s blessed to see Otabek smile again. “…Really?” he asks. Yuri chuckles.

 

“Yeah, really.”

 

“How’d you work it out?”

 

“You broke me out of prison.” Yuri smiles. “And hid me in your closet.”

 

…Gods, he loves Beka’s laugh.

 

The prince has beautiful bells. They sound like a windchime, breathing life into the dead of the night with each chuckle, each breath.

 

“Did that actually happen?” Otabek asks, a grin wide on his face. He lets go off Yuri’s hand to rub at his eyes- but Yuri doesn’t mind. It’s a good exchange.

 

“It wasn’t your greatest plan.” The fairy admits. “I ended up having to jump out of the window. But I had wings then, and I was lucky it was your Sister who found us out.”

 

Otabek snorts. “I’m glad to hear you weren’t flattened. What happened after that?”

 

“After the Fairy hunts?” Yuri asks. He mulls it over for a moment. Though, truthfully- he doesn’t need to.

 

“…JJ happened.”

 

Somewhere, Otabek had shuffled closer. His elbow knocks into Yuri slightly, when he moves.

 

“You mean, that’s when he came to power?” the Prince says. Yuri nods.

 

“He was really fuckin’ angry at King Altin. A lot of people were- which is fair. The deaths he ordered were bullshit. Leroy’s fiancé was one of them.” Yuri darkens for a moment.

 

“JJ was a politician, and she was a Halfling. I don’t know anything else about her.” He says.

 

“…So that’s what sparked the fall?” Otabek breathes. “A mass fairy exodus.”

 

Yuri sighs. “Kind of. Leroy amassed an army of people, and overthrew the kingdom. But JJ is just as fucking terrible a person as King Altin." The fairy sneers. “JJ eventually found this place. His fiancé must have told him about it before she died- he captured Viktor, almost fucking killed Katsuki trying to force him to open the gate. And I…”

 

There’s a pricking behind Yuri’s eyes- a clenching in his throat- and fuck, he doesn’t want to cry. What the fuck was this for?  His empty fist clenches, and Otabek, eyes wide in the moment, closes his hand over Yuri’s. Another slowly glides up to the fairy’s face without his noticing.

 

And- oh. Otabek gently tugs at Yuri’s bangs, revealing his other eye as he loops his golden hair behind his ear. He keeps his hand by him, holding Yuri’s face. And gods damn it- the fairy did cry. A single tear rolls partway down his cheek.

 

“You had to protect your family. I get it.” Otabek says softly. Yuri doesn’t mention that Katsuki and Viktor aren’t his actual family, or that families aren’t a ‘fairy’ thing. That’s not important right now.

 

 “…So you saw it.” He murmurs instead.

 

Otabek whispers back. “Yeah.”

 

Though there are no tears to stain Yuri’s face, Otabek takes it upon himself to caress his thumb over Yuri’s cheek. Like Yuri did with the prince’s hand earlier- Otabek glides the pads of his fingers over the fairy’s soft, pale skin.

 

Yuri swallows.

 

“I’m supposed to be comforting you.” he croaks. The prince blinks- but he gives the fairy a tiny grin, before long. It’s warm. Kind. All the things that Otabek always has been.

 

“You’re comforting just by being here.” He says. And fucking hell, Altin, that was cheesy. But it doesn’t stop Yuri from feeling the same.

 

“Is that why you stayed with me, then?” Yuri whispers. He brings both his hands to Otabek’s, melting into his touch where he can. “If not for your memories.”

 

Otabek hums. A moment of consideration- and then his free hand wraps around Yuri’s waist, closing whatever little distance was between them as he tugs the fairy close. The prince is able to gently knock his forehead to Yuri’s- he does, and the fairy’s heart is in his throat.

 

“Yeah.” Otabek says. And it’s not the word- it’s the way he says it. He says it barely above a whisper, eyes never parting with Yuri’s. Noses clinking together, and fuck.

 

Yuri wants to kiss him.

 

But Otabek closes his eyes, and when he does, he pulls his face away. He slips down to rest his head on Yuri’s shoulder, breath catching on the boy’s bare collar and neck.

 

“I’m tired, Yura.” He states.

 

It’s such a straightforward way of saying it that Yuri snorts. “In what way?” he asks.

 

“Sleep.” Otabek murmurs, and it’s all he says.

 

Yuri can’t blame him. It’s late, and the night pauses for no one. Otabek’s breathing is already starting to even out, chest rising and falling. Yuri wonders if, from his position, the Prince can feel Yuri’s chest- can feel how his heart hammers alongside the fluttering of the Prince’s drooping eyelids.

 

Yuri wouldn’t mind if they stayed like this.

 

He pulls Otabek back, though- and the prince looks at him accusingly. As accusing as you can look when you’re dead-ass tired. He taps Otabek on the chest lightly.

 

“Lie down.” He grumbles. “You can’t sleep upright.”

 

Otabek yawns. “I can, and I have.” He mutters. As he says this, he leans back- head hitting a vaguely dusty pillow and sinking in satisfyingly, all while Yuri tugs at the crumpled old sheets. “But I won’t.”

 

 “Good.” Yuri smirks. He manages to pry the blanket out from underneath them, and he lifts it a little hesitantly.

 

…He’s not sure when they agreed to sleep together, but fuck it. Yuri finds himself tugged gently, by a very sleepy and (apparently) very affectionate man. Both the blanket and Otabek’s arms are pulled over him without time to debate it.

 

The Prince smiles so brightly when Yuri joins him in his recline, head resting right next to his. It’s almost teasing, the way Otabek grins at Yuri’s pout. The way folded arms and temper tantrums are met with amusement and understanding.

 

The way Otabek is the first to whisper “Goodnight, Yuri.” with a smile, when Yuri isn’t even done with him yet. There’s something else he wants to ask him.

 

“Beka.” He whispers. Voice low- Yuri thinks, at this distance, he barely needs to talk at all. 

 

Eyes half closed already, Otabek hums in response- prompting Yuri to continue.

 

“Do you think that… a person can be called a home? Instead of a place?”

 

It’d been on Yuri’s mind all day. And now that it’s out there, the fairy realises it’s a fucking stupid question. He’d never thought of a place as home. This realm, this house; the human realm, his grandpa’s house. Almaty, the castle, Otabek’s chambers or his fucking closet, whatever. Yuri’s never had a home.

 

Otabek replies to him- despite Yuri’s little internal monologue about how dumb of a question that was. The fairy is learning very quickly that Otabek is a sack full of sappy shit that’s almost as vomit-worthy as Viktor.

 

The Prince yawns again (fuck, he needs to go to sleep), eyes drooping as he speaks.

 

“You’re my home.” He says.

 

And Yuri huffs and rolls over, though he brought this on himself by asking. Someone needs to make this man illegal, because that’s twice he’s stolen Yuri’s fucking heart, and twice tonight that he’s said some kind of cheesy shit that Yuri actually, secretly, agreed with.

 

So in lieu of ‘goodnight’, Yuri mutters sourly into his pillow.

 

“Thanks for naming me, I guess.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I said-“ Yuri unmuffles his voice, lifting his face from the actually-pretty-fucking-dusty pillow. “Thanks for naming me.” He repeats.

 

 

And though his Prince doesn’t understand the significance, Yuri means it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo boy. i promised, so i hoped i delivered. wonder where we'll go from here, huh?
> 
> to everyone reading this who has subscribed and followed this fanfic: i fucking love you. thank you for everything. to anyone newly picking this fic up: remember to tell literally everyone you know about this! and i love you also.
> 
> (and keep a lookout on my art tumblr for some otayuri shit soon. @goombellart. hmu my dudes.)


	11. Housekeeping

Otabek wakes up face down on the floor- bed sheets wrapped around his ankle like a rope and a large, furry animal o his place on the bed.

 

It’s not comfortable.

 

“Yuri.” He mumbles, voice half-muffled into the ground.

 

…No answer. He tries again, tilting his head to side this time. His nose is squashed halfway across his face in a way that’s probably very unattractive.

 

“Yuri.” Otabek calls again. Not quite clearly- his tongue is still heavy with sleep. “Why am I a dog?”

 

Because that’s _totally_ what he meant to say. Barely awake himself, Yuri groans from atop their bed.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about.” He slurs.

 

“Dog.” Otabek repeats. “In my spot.”

 

Otabek can barely see him over the giant fluffy creature, but he hears the sheets rustle as the fairy sits up. Yuri’s hair is _somehow_ almost pristine- give or take a few cowlicks here or there from where his head rested on the pillow.

 

Yuri takes a survey of the situation with bleary eyes- rubbing at the sleep, he flicks his gaze over to the sheets half-pulled off his body. He looks at the massive poodle he’d been practically spooning in Otabek’s place, and then finally- to Otabek himself, a tangled torso and limbs left indelicately on the floor.

 

He blinks.

 

“Hi.” Yuri croaks.

 

“Hi.” Otabek mumbles back. “I feel betrayed by this dog.”

 

Yuri yawns, stretching his arms far above his head and arching his back. His too-large shirt falls further down his collar when he releases, though he doesn’t notice it, or is too tired to fix it. “ _This dog_ has a name, just so you know.” He deadpans. “Oi. Makkachin!”

 

The animal doesn’t move an inch. All it takes, though, is two sharp pats to their fluffy butt to wake them. The dog’s tail is wagging in no time- and they yawn, too. Yuri wastes no time in chiding them.

 

“That was fucking _rude_ , pushing Beka out of bed like that. You should apologize.” He says. Makkachin ignores him- stretching their paw out as if begging for a pat. It makes Yuri gasp, deeply scandalised.

 

“Don’t just- are you _listening_ to me?!” he squawks.

 

“It’s a dog, Yura.” Otabek chuckles sleepily. He’s pretty sure that unless Makkachin is a magic dog, they’re not going to listen to either of them. Yuri huffs, and fold his arms.

 

“Makkachin is far too much like their master.” he growls. The fairy eyes off the poodle. “Stupid Viktor. Thinks he can teach you to do whatever you want.”

 

“Can you _maybe_ untangle my foot before anything, please?” Otabek calls from the floor.

 

Yuri rolls his eyes and grumbles. “Fine. Next time I’ll just lock Makkachin out.”

 

 

\---

 

The house is a lot less sombre during the day- or maybe it was that there were people occupying it now, that it felt so much lighter. Whatever it was, the wooden floors were thrown with soft yellow from the sky and bright colours-the sun of the Fair Realm shone enthusiastically that morning. The dog, Makkachin, doesn’t follow Otabek and Yuri out of the bedroom. If they knew their humans were making food, though, Otabek bets they would’ve.

 

“Who’s cooking?” Otabek wonders aloud.

 

Yuri grunts half-heartedly. “Me, I guess.” He shrugs, and Otabek frowns.

 

“Do you know how to cook?”  he asks.

 

“Do you?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Me neither. I’ll work something out.” Yuri shrugs again.

 

That’s even _more_ concerning.

 

 

 As it turns out, though, Otabek’s concerns were (mostly) unfounded. The house is small- basically a cottage- so the longue room and kitchen are practically one. It means that Otabek can sit and watch as Yuri cooks up a storm… or hopefully _doesn’t_ do that, because they’re still technically guests and a storm would destroy the place.

  
“I mightn’t know how to cook, but-” Yuri says, as Otabek relaxes into the cushioned couch. The fairy reaches into a top cupboard, and they pull out a book- bound and thick. It nearly crushes him on the way down with its size and weight- Yuri’s limbs could almost snap from it. Surprisingly, the fairy manages to lift it, puffing with the exertion as he speaks, and holding the book to his chest proudly.

 

“-any idiot can follow a recipe.” He beams.

 

Otabek hums, and then after a moment, replies with- “I mean, I can’t. I always miss steps.”

 

The fairy’s face falls.

 

“That’s why you’re not cooking, shitstick.” he replies sarcastically.

 

Otabek can’t help but laugh at that.

 

“Shitstick? Really?” He grins.

 

Yuri’s face grows red as he huffs, and slams the recipe book down on the counter. He stomps around the miniature kitchen, throwing open drawers and cupboards for ingredients and utensils.

 

“I just woke up, ok? If you want food, you won’t make fun of me and my insults.” He snaps.

 

Otabek chuckles watching him. He remarks lightly- “That rule didn’t apply when we were travelling.”

 

Yuri curses as he the spoon he was holding drops and clatters. “Who made _you_ the food keeper?” he protests.

 

Otabek folds his arms and smirks. “You did. Since you refused to eat for the first three days.”

 

“I was in denial!”

 

“Clearly.”

 

Yuri shoots him a withering look- one that plainly tells Otabek not to push him. At least, not on this topic. With seemingly all of his tools laid out on the table, the fairy begins to flick through the recipe book eagerly. It takes a moment, but he presses his hand to its spine once he finds his place, flattening it out. Gently, his finger glides from the top and across the page as he reads- he follows each word with his touch as much as his eyes and mouths each word silently, like a child. It gives Otabek pause.

 

“…I never really asked whether or not you could read.” he murmurs.

 

Yuri glances up, disarmed.

 

He’s cute when he’s startled, Otabek thinks.

 

“Oh. Yeah, I can.” Yuri mumbles. “There’s two fucking languages in here, and they’re both bullshit to understand.”

 

 “You can read multiple scripts?” Otabek asks, surprised. Yuri scoffs like it’s nothing.

 

“Three. And I’m nowhere near fucking fluent in two of ‘em”

 

Otabek raises an eyebrow- Yuri seems to take that as judgement of his skills, though. He whines defensively, waving his hands around as he speaks.

 

“Common is straight up _dumb_ , ok? and Japanese is… weird.” he protests. “They use like… little pictures for every individual word. I just wanna make pancakes! Not bust out a whole fuckin’ dictionary!”

 

Otabek laughs.

 

“I like pancakes.” He comments.

 

Yuri’s thrown by the prince’s odd response, but he still replies with an amused look and a huff. “Good.” He says. “Cause it’s all Katsuki’s got the ingredients for. Except butter. And milk. He doesn’t have those.”

 

Yuri frowns.

 

“I mean… we’ve got nut milk?”

 

“I’m ok with nut milk.” Otabek says. “I’m sure it’s the same as regular milk.”

 

Yuri snorts.

 

“Just drown that shit in honey and you won’t taste the difference.” They fairy dismisses with a smile. He finally leaves the cookbook’s side, turning to what Otabek thinks is an oven and bending down to inspect it.

 

“Now… I gotta light this.”

 

“The stove?”

 

“No, the fucking kitchen, _idiot_. Yes _,_ the stove.” Yuri mutters. “But how...?”

 

“You can’t cook with magic?”

 

Yuri rolls his eyes.

 

“Real fucking funny, Beka. Y’know, magic isn’t the fix-all you humans _think_ it is. Even if- oh. Wait. Wait a fucking second.”

 

A beat, and the fairy stiffens.

 

“I _can_ use magic.”

 

The ball drops, and Otabek smiles privately.

 

“Fairy dust.” He reminds him quietly.

 

“Not made out of fairies.” Yuri chuckles. “Right.”

 

He’s not wearing his cloak, so Yuri is free unhook the pouch at his hip. He tucks a strand of hair behind his face- almost like a habit when he needs to concentrate- before he dips his pointer finger into the red powder contained within. It’s a quirk of his lips and a snap of his fingers for him to light the cooktop with his hand.

 

If Otabek didn’t know any better, he’d call Yuri a natural at this.

 

 

\---

 

Considering that the fairy’s had a digestive system for less than 4 weeks, Yuri’s done incredibly well with making breakfast. It’s not the best food Otabek’s ever eaten- that award goes to Mrs Katsuki’s Pork Cutlet Bowls. But it’s good food- only _slightly_ burnt, milk-and-butter free pancakes, sweetened with (as Yuri put it) a shitload of honey. And it’s made sweeter by the fact that they can enjoy it together.

 

At least, Otabek thinks so.

 

It’s certainly the most _entertaining_ meal he’s had. Yuri might be spellbindingly pretty any other time of the day, but he’s absolutely anything but when he eats. The prince was certain that Yuri was going to choke at least _twice_ during the short time it took him to inhale his food. The fairy didn’t seem to care how fast he ate, or how hot the pancakes were. He also didn’t seem to care about the honey smeared all over his mouth and halfway across his face. It was something to behold- Yuri’s fork held like it was positioned to stab somebody, hair wild and sleep-tangled and halfway caught in his mouth.

 

He’d broken at least 4 pancake-eating records.

 

In contrast, Otabek takes his time eating. Not particularly to savour the food, but moreso the moment. This moment of introspection- of an early, quiet morning with a friend. A friend who’s entertaining himself now that he’s finished absorbing his pancakes by dancing flames off his fingertips in the early morning light. He can barely feel the heat of it, despite how close they’re sitting. It’s just the two of them- Yuri watches Otabek eat as he plays, and Otabek, silently, watches back. Watches the way the fire is thrown as it dances across his hand, ribbons of red casting a shine over the sweetness lingering on Yuri’s lips. The way Yuri’s tongue darts out, just for a moment, to lick at what’s left. How close their legs are to tangling together as they sat.

 

Otabek swallows thickly.

 

He’s two-thirds into his fourth pancake, and halfway down a dangerous train of thought when Otabek hears skittering from another room.

 

“ _Makkachin_ ~!” a voice calls.

 

As the poodle bounds and barks into the living room, Yuri’s flames suddenly go out. His body stiffens in panic- a hand bracing the side of the couch, eyes wide and drawn-in.

 

“ _Shit_ -!”

 

“Makkach- oh.”

 

Well. Otabek supposes this _was_ Katsuki’s house. It shouldn’t have been surprising, then, to have the man show up at his own front door.

 

It is, though.

 

The king is dressed ordinarily again, hair slicked to his forehead with sweat. The only explanation Otabek can offer is that he’s been training this morning- though that means the man has been awake several hours before them.

 

“Uh… h-hi.” Katsuki stammers, still caught in his own doorway.

 

Otabek is left dumbstruck on the couch, fork still halfway to his mouth and frozen. His pancake slips off it and smack noisily onto the plate as he stares at Katsuki.

 

“Hi.” He says back.

 

“Why are you in my house?”

 

“I, uh-“ Otabek clears his throat, lowering his fork. “I didn’t really, uh, know it was your house. And the door wasn’t locked, and Yuri was sleeping on the floor, so… yeah. S-sorry.” He blurts.

 

Katsuki waves his hands, glasses knocking around his face. “N-no, no, it’s ok! I just-.”

 

Suddently, Katsuki straightens his vision, peering over the tops of his frames. His eyes scan the loungeroom suspiciously. “Wait. You said Yurio was here?”

 

“Uh… yeah?” Otabek tilts his head. “He’s-“

 

Not. Here. Anymore. As Otabek tilts his head beside him, the space Yuri occupied seconds before was totally empty.

 

“…huh. Ok.”

 

Katsuki frowns. He folds his hands in his lap, and sighs quietly. “I just… need to talk to him, is all. I think- I think he got the wrong idea earlier when I sent him away.” He say.

 

Otabek shakes his head, cocking it curiously. “Weren’t you mad at him, Your Highness? That’s hardly the wrong idea.”

 

It’s Katsuki’s turn to look guilty. His brown eyes, at the forefront of them, hold so much grief. Not from this incident in particular, Otabek guessed. Yuri and Yuuri Katsuki had a lot of history- about as much as they shared with King Viktor.

 

It was almost like… the grief in Katsuki’s body was beginning to leak, from however many months he’d been forced to hold it in. The man had been perpetually mournful.

 

“I _was_ angry at Yuri. But I feel like I… overreacted, without knowing all the facts. I’m sorry, Otabek.” Katsuki trembles. “T-to Yuri and to you.”

 

Oh. Otabek… wasn’t expecting an apology. He’d been angry, too, last night. Reaching into his heart that morning, he could say he felt a lot more…. mellow.

 

Would he be that without Yuri’s comfort, he wouldn’t know.

 

“You should sit down.” Otabek murmurs. Katsuki sniffs, nodding to agree. It sounded like an invitation of permission- but really, from Otabek, it was a genuine suggestion.

 

Considering the first impression Katsuki made on him- one of power and ice and confidence- Otabek is still unnerved to see the man upset, and especially at this relatively close quarters. The raven-haired man shuffles over to the couch opposite the prince. If he spots his half-eaten plate of pancakes or the smell of fire in the kitchen, Katsuki says nothing. His eyes are drawn down.

 

Otabek speaks immediately.

 

“I’m going to help you.” He says.

 

“W-what?”

 

“You wanted me to save your husband. I’m going to help you.”

 

Katsuki’s gaze shoots up, eyes wide. He clenches his palms nervously into the couch’s cushions, pinching up the fabric.

 

“I- I mean. I kind of forced this on you? You don’t h-have to do it."

 

“If it makes you feel better, Your Highness, I’ve decided to do this myself.” Otabek says quietly. “As it turns out, I’ve got several personal scores to settle, and so does Yuri.”

 

It _does_ seem to make him feel better. Katsuki unwinds slightly, hands moving up to adjust his glasses with a sniff. “I s-see, then. Your support after everything is… greatly appreciated.” He says evenly.

 

There’s still a tension in the room, though, that Otabek would prefer diffused. He takes a moment to think- there’s silence, and then suddenly Otabek decides to fill it with the sound of ceramic scraping against wood. The Prince pushes his plate forward, towards Katsuki in an offering of peace.

 

“Pancake.”  He says.

 

Katsuki stares long and hard at it.

 

“…Pancake?” the dark-haired man repeats.

 

“Pancake.” Otabek affirms. “You should, uh. You should eat it.”

 

Katsuki’s eyebrows practically merge into his hairline. It takes a moment, and a loud sniffle from him- but the man accepts the plate with a smile and a wet chuckle.

 

“Thank you.” He says with amusement.

 

“Pancake.” Otabek replies, though his brain meant ‘you’re welcome’ and he’s not sure what happened to the phrase on the way to his mouth.

 

Katsuki doesn’t talk while he eats, but he seems to enjoy it. As much as Yuri’s somewhat mediocre cooking _can_ be enjoyed- which Otabek has proven to be ‘a lot, given that other criteria are provided for, such as: having Yuri eat it with you’.  

 

That second criteria currently didn’t apply.

 

But not for long.

 

There’s a tickling of breath behind Otabek’s neck- the shivers induced by Yuri’s voice in his hair. From behind Otabek and the couch, the top half of Yuri’s face appears- peeking hesitantly over the furniture. Katsuki almost instantly notices the fairy- before he can speak, though, Yuri interrupts him with a wave of his hand and a drawl.

 

“What’s up.”

 

Katsuki blinks. He’s frozen solid as he swallows his food.

 

“Oh. Yurio.” He managed croaks. “Did you… how much of that conversation did you hear?”

 

“All of it.” Yuri replies with a smirk.

 

“Ah.” Katsuki smiles weakly. “I see.”

 

“I was behind the couch the whole time.”

 

“Yura.“ Otabek sighs. The Prince drops his head and enckaway from the fairy’s face, and Yuri frowns at him.

 

“What?” he protests. He’s about to say more- but then, Katsuki interjects with a laugh.

 

“It’s fine, really.“ He smiles. The man puts down his plate with a hefty sigh, though- but the grin never leaves his face. It’s a good look on him.

 

“I’m thankful you two are in the same place, actually. It means I won’t have to repeat myself, or force you to make nice.”

 

Yuri and Otabek give him twin looks of confusion. That, and several other things- apprehension, curiosity, and everything else that came when Yuuri Katsuki’s doleful eyes harden into something a _world_ more intimidating. Tilting his glasses, the King smiles ruefully down at both of them.

 

“Viktor’s been missing for almost a year, and if you think I’ve been sitting here doing nothing but _grieving_ , you’re wrong. If you’re both going to help, there’s a plan I’ve been working on.”

 

 

\---

 

Viktor’s always prided himself on being able to adapt to the unexpected. Examples: having to pretend he was a Halfling for a year to seduce Yuuri Katsuki. Or (accidentally) basically adopting a son in the form of _Kotenok_.

 

Or becoming the King suddenly when Yakov and Lilia passed away and having to deal with the fallout of it, then trying to save your son from a Usurper King’s servitude only to be captured and used as a hostage.

 

That last one was a little bit complex.

 

All that aside, Viktor thinks- ever since the first time the Usurper King visited his mouldy cell without warning, the first time it was for something other than to taunt him-Viktor hasn’t been able to get used to his presence. Or him as a person at all.

 

Leroy took him away from his family, inflicted _so much pain_ on them- and Viktor would take vengeance on him in a _second_ if he could for that alone. He never wants to relive that day by the gate, the day that his _Kotenok_ sacrificed themselves. And yet in his dreams, when Viktor does want for sleep, the Fairy King sees the kitten’s determined eyes and Yuuri’s bloodied ones- and his own feet hurtling along the ground as far as he can take them, no matter how hard he tries to shut the memory out. And it always ends the same way, no matter what he tries. It’s him running away from the carnage, with Yuuri in his arms. Away from JJ, like a coward.

 

But there’s where it gets tricky.

 

Jean-Jaques Leroy, Viktor thinks, isn’t a clear-cut villain. He’s nothing like the demon Viktor keeps in his head. The Usurper King- as Viktor, and so many of the humans guarding Almaty see him- is a man of unspeakable, awesome evil and hatred.

 

But Jean-Jaques Leroy- the man behind the mask- is just a child. Barely a year older than Almaty’s former Crown Prince.

 

 

 The awful things he’s done to Viktor are exactly why Leroy confides in him. The Fairy King already hates him enough- a little more each day doesn’t hurt, right?

 

That’s what he says, anyway. Viktor see’s through that.

 

 

When he says “Feel free to hate me.”, he means:

 

_‘I want a friend, but I know that everyone fears me by my own doing.’_

When he spits “Are you sure you aren’t missing your _boyfriend_?”, he means _:_

_‘I want a friend, but these fae-hating humans I’ve built up around me only want to use me, and would tear me down the moment I showed them my weakness.’_

He’s not as dumb as he seems. Viktor’s been down this avenue before.

 

Today, Jean-Jacques Leroy sits on the other side of the cell from him. When he’s that far, and that curled in on himself, Viktor knows he’s serious. That he’s scared in particular, for any number of reasons.

 

“What have I done?” Leroy croaks into his knees.

 

Viktor sighs. There are no chains to constrain him, but he refuses to move from his spot. “You say that every time you come here.” he drawls. “You know perfectly well what you did.”

 

JJ peers up at him, eyes watering quietly.

 

“I know.” He says. “I deserve this.”

 

“You do.” Viktor affirms.

 

There’s no sympathy to be garnered from Viktor. But that’s not because he’s particularly mean. It’s because Leroy is a still good person, on the inside. He’s done evil, unthinkable things, yes- but he’s still capable of rational thought and empathy. That’s always important to remember.

 

Leroy’s reaction now, these past however many weeks- his hatred of himself, the tears and resentment and hopelessness in his eyes- means he can still be reasoned with. The Usurper King isn’t beyond salvation. He can, and is willing to work to redeem himself.

 

In the future, that is. The only thing he’s capable of now is breaking down into hopeless sobs.

 

 

It just so happens that, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him- no matter how quietly, patiently angry Viktor always will be- redeeming Jean-Jaques Leroy is the only way the Fairy King can see this war ending without another bloodbath.

 

 

 

All through the days- guard shifts, bad singing, restless dreaming andLeroy visiting whenever he pleased- Viktor has a mantra he repeats to himself, over and over and over.

 

He’s doing this for Yuuri. He’s doing this for _Kotenok_. He’s doing this for Yuuri. He’s doing this for Yuuri.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hjhgsjgjsehgjhesg
> 
> thats really all i got to say after this. i wrote half of it when i was almost asleep and/or fucked up on painkillers which is where u get the weird dialogue and writing from in the first half.
> 
> tried to pick up the plot a bit in the second half though. i think all of my writing and prose skills for the week got sunk into "if we go down, we go down together" (which is just a regular ol otayuri oneshot that you should totally read after this ;) )
> 
> two last quick things: 
> 
> one! the dreaded curse to any fic- i'm going back to school tomorrow. and i'm in my final year of school. but don't worry!! this fic will be finished, 100%. just expect my once-a-week update schedule to loosen a little bit.
> 
> second thing! i've put an excerpt of an unreleased bonus chapter on my art blog! read it here:  
> http://goombellart.tumblr.com/post/156467829971/otabeks-silence-with-the-lilies-and-his-pile-of
> 
>  
> 
> thanks for reading once again my dudes! i appreciate everything, always!!


	12. To Love and Have Lost

It’s a wonderful feeling, to have Mila’s fingers carding through her hair. It’s wonderful, because Sara Crispino wasn’t used to touch.

 

She’d always supposed she was born with a curse. And oh- where’s she from, having the blood of the Fae was a curse in so many ways. Her family were ashamed of her and her brother from the moment they were born. Called them _changlings._ Never by their names. As children, they were teased, if not outright feared by the people around them. For the longest time, Michele was the only one who would _look her in the eyes._

 

Michele and Sara were each other’s only friends. Their only family- their own parents and grandparents as much as they were brother and sister to each other.

 

They were the only ones who could touch without consequence.

 

The Crispino twins were raised like porcelain dolls in a merchant household- well off financially, but wanting for other’s approval, their _love_. Neither of them ever got it. Neither of them, for all their lives, never believed they would. Without wanting to, they _hurt_ people, when people got close.

 

Sara can only wonder, now, how their childhood had affected Michele. She wonders if he’s still as bitter as she once was. Wonders if he still resents his unique, fae blood.

 

The tan girl’s eyes were tempted to draw shut at Mila’s preening- the other woman humming quietly, contentedly, as she does so. Sara’s glad that Mila doesn’t mind her. Doesn’t mind that she’s not used to people getting this close, isn’t used to them touching her. She takes her time. And Sara appreciates that.

 

She also appreciates, that when Mila _does_ sneak a little kiss to her hairline- that Sara can rest easy knowing it isn’t going to harm her. Not like it would with a human. For all her violet, poison-filled eyes glowed, Mila was a fairy- nothing of Sara’s magic could harm her. She had no flesh to destroy, no life to take.

 

Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of things about Mila that were wonderful. Besides the fact that Sara’s poison couldn’t kill her.

 

The red-haired fairy coos, in that lilting voice of hers- making chit-chat and gossip in the towel room of the Onsen. “Did you hear?” she says. “His highness is planning on training Prince Otabek soon.”

 

“Oh?” Sara replies. Half-jokingly- “Which one?”

 

Mila snorts. She has the ugliest laugh Sara’s ever heard- not even her bells can make it sound pretty. It’s perfect.

 

“Yuuri Katsuki, of course.” Mila chuckles. “Unless Viktor’s suddenly appeared out of nowhere just to coach him. Chris tells me he’s been stressed lately, poor guy.” She whines sympathetically.

 

Mila reaches a particularly tender spot on Sara’s scalp, and the woman sighs as she presses her fingers into contact. She shifts in position, leaning back to her girlfriend’s touch.

 

“I wouldn’t blame him.” She muses. “He’s been pushing himself so hard, since Viktor’s people escaped from Almaty.”

 

A chaotic memory. Mila murmurs, thoughtful.

 

“I think… it’s been hard on Yuuri, ruling alone. Not to say that he hasn’t been great at it” She sighs. “I really hope he’s ok, though. If it's getting too much, he needs to talk to someone. Or take a vacation.”

 

 Sara hums. “He'll be fine. Besides- Yuuri’s proven to be stronger than he looks.”

 

He was a Halfling, after all. Those who weren’t strong didn’t survive past the age their fae blood presented.

 

“I know, I know.” Mila mumbles Her fingers drop from Sara’s hair, and the girl nearly whines for the loss of them.

 

“He just… deserves to be happy.” Mila says quietly “He doesn’t deserve anything of what he’s gone through.”

 

Sara murmurs in agreement.

 

None of them have.

 

Their whole situation mightn’t seem so stressful at first glance. The Fair Realm was exactly that-fair.  It’s a gorgeous place, a veritable paradise for humans, with ever shining suns and plentiful food all year. But for the fairies that lived there, it was just like anywhere else. With the added perk of it being timeless, of course.

 

Mila and Sara had carved out a place for themselves here. One that involved frequent visits to the hot springs and walks by blooming garden paths, brushing hands (but never touching) as they did. Mila has standard combat training most days, of course- she’s a part of the royal guard- but besides her duties, they’re content to be together at all hours, never ending.

 

That kind of heaven is something she’d be devastated to leave. Sara might have had to leave her twin behind in Almaty, but Sara has Mila. This realm, this _woman_ , now, was her world. Her family.

 

Sara can’t imagine, then, what it was like for Yuuri. To have his world forcefully torn from him twice, and still remain the same, compassionate person.

 

She wonders if being happy- to love, even for a short while, is worth the pain it causes when it’s taken away.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school is kicking my ass right now they gave me 4 early classes in a row and all my time has been dedicated to art and naps. naps in my bedroom that gets up to 40 degrees celsius in temperature because australian summers are like living in satan's sweaty asshole for four months a year.
> 
> this is really kind of filler, but this scene needed to happen and i didn't know where else to stick it. you'll be pleased to know that the rest of this fic is planned out, though. the ending is basically locked in and i cant wait to see how people react to it!
> 
> EDIT: oh! i also did some general housekeeping. you might notice i changed some chapter titles. i gave them a scheme ;)


	13. A Month

 

“Almaty is like a fortress.” Yuuri begins.

 

His chest hums with something quiet. Something loving. Something, long ago, he had labelled Viktor. He’d be proud of him, Yuuri thinks, for being able to step up like this. For taking the lead.

 

Yuuri hopes he can maintain that.

 

“A fortress.” Prince Otabek mumbles, though his tone is far from soft. He’s hanging off every word, rapt- He’s an intense guy, Yuuri thinks. The Halfling hadn’t met a more focused teenager in his life. The prince frowns deeply, hands folded in his lap. “It never used to be. What did they do to it?” he asks.

 

As Makkachin paws at Yuuri’s leg, the Halfling hums- he sighs a little in exasperation as he tries to ignore the dog.

 

“…Believe it or not,” he says. “JJ’s managed to put up an ‘anti-fae’ barrier around the city. It’s a bigger, more powerful version of a charm already used in households. It’s why I haven’t just… busted in already.” Yuuri explains. Through his calmness, the pit of his stomach begins to stir with pitch-black memories.

 

_Not now_ , he wills. _I have to convince them I’m confidant. I am confidant._

 

Yurio pick at his teeth with a fingernail, swiping at the stray honey left on his fingers. He didn’t eat his mild-disaster pancakes more than he just… licked them. Which was kind of gross. The blonde decides that now is a great time to pipe up, interrupting the conversation with the last point he heard.

 

“Y’know, I saw a couple of those charms stuck up in Hasetsu.” He says. “Like little pieces of parchment. Pretty ironic that humans are using magic to keep out magic, huh?” he grins.

 

Makkachin’s tail thumps against Yuuri’s leg, quietly tapping like his heartbeat. Yuuri’s stomach stirs again.

 

Hasetsu.

 

He hasn’t been back in years.

 

When did Yurio visit?

 

Did he meet Mari? Yuuri’s always wanted to introduce Yurio to Mari.

 

Is the Katsuki family still alive?

 

Yuuri clears his throat hastily, mumbling in his speech. He interrupts his own thoughts before they reach a downward spiral he knows isn’t good.

 

_Confidence. Be confidant._

 

“My hometown was, uh. Superstitious.” He stutters “for a mild way of putting it.”

 

Yuuri can’t count how many times in his childhood that some brat of a kid had used those anti-fairy charms to repel him, as if he were a mosquito or a bug, a plague on their household. Even his close friend, Takeshi, had used one once to try and keep him away from Yuuko. He’d been convinced that Yuuri was going to steal her soul based on the sheer fact that he was a Halfling.

 

He’d cried for hours.

 

“…Katsuki?”

 

Yuuri snaps out of his memories, and ominously, his heart goes quiet. He stammers out a reply- “Y-yes?” and adjusts his glasses. A nervous habit of his.

 

Prince Otabek tilts his head curiously. Like a puppy, Yuuri thinks. A very stoic puppy with an undercut, and a lot of determination.

 

“If you aren’t immune to anti-fae charms-“ Prince Otabek points out. “I won’t be either. How are we getting past them?”

 

Right. The plan. _Confidence_ , Yuuri reminds himself again.

 

Yuuri quirks what he hopes is a convincing grin. He prays that neither Yurio nor Otabek notices the clawing at his chest, his anxiety. His need for approval from them.

 

“We’re not getting past the barrier.”  He says cryptically.

 

And them, there’s a short, tense silence.

 

Yurio barks a laugh. Bells ring harshly in Yuuri’s ears, chiming unkindly.

 

“Incredible.” He snarks. “What’ve you got planned then, _Pork Cutlet Bowl_? You can’t just expect some human to waltz into the castle and disable the barrier- not without _dying_ on us.”

 

“You’re a human now, Yurio.”

 

“And we- “

 

Yurio freezes. Blinks.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Yuuri smiles sweetly.

 

“ _You’re_ going past the barrier.”

 

“…You’re kidding.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Yuuri missed Yurio, but he didn’t miss his volume. Not at all.

 

Makkachin abandons Yuuri’s side, and goes skittering out of the lounge room at the sound of Yurio’s shrill, screaming voice. Even Prince Otabek discreetly plugs his ears as the fairy yells.

 

“NO WAY- I am NOT going back into that _clusterfuck_ alone!”

 

Standing up, Yuuri wonders how the boy doesn’t knock his plate over. Or smack Prince Otabek in the face with his arms flailing. Yuuri tries to reassure him.

 

“You won’t be alone completely.” He says. “I just need you to get inside, get Viktor if he’s there, and shut down the barrier.”

 

The Halfling leans back into the couch- “We can attach a communication spell to you. Meanwhile- Otabek, me, and a few others will provide a distraction as you’re sneaking in.”

 

Yurio is still standing, though somewhat placated. But he doesn’t look happy about all this. Not that Yuuri is too fussed- once the initial hesitation fades, he knows he can rely on him to help. Probably.

 

The Halfling sweeps a lock of raven hair behind his ear, pushes his glasses back onto his nose- and he finishes explaining.

 

“Once the barrier is down, we storm the place. If that succeeds, then Almaty is won.” A shrug, and a smile.

 

“Simple as that.” He says, and he’s proud of himself that his voice doesn’t quaver.

 

Simple, but he’s had nine months to think about it.

 

There’s a pause in the room as Otabek and Yurio take it all in.

 

And then- “I have questions.”

 

“Same.” Yurio adds quickly.

 

Yuuri tries not to deflate. It’s not like he’d expected them to accept the plan from the get-go, but he had hoped. He smiles, but it’s plastic on his face. A mask of insecurity. _Confidence, Confidence, Confidence._

 

“I understand. Yurio?”

 

Yurio sits, now- he lifts a leg up onto the dining table and crosses his ankle over it. His legs are wide, and he defiantly takes over half the couch’s space in a show of arrogance.

 

“Yeah, ok. My question is; do I really have to get in there by myself?” he asks.

 

“If you care about me and Viktor, yes.” Yuuri replies quickly. “Next question.”

 

“No, no-“ Yurio interrupts. He leans forward- “You said before, ‘get Viktor _if_ he’s there.’ You’re telling me to go storm a fucking castle and you don’t even know if Viktor’ll turn up?”

 

Yuuri instinctively scowls beneath his glasses.

 

“I’m due for a divination with Phichit soon.” He says evenly. “He’ll tell me if Viktor is… in Almaty.”

 

“That merchant friend of yours? _Fuck_ that, he’s a fucking _fraud_ -“

 

“-Yurio-“  


“And you’re telling me-“ Yurio seethes. “You’re telling me, I can see it on your _fucking_ face, Katsuki-“

 

Yurio jabs a finger in the Halfling’s space, then, like he’s proving a point. He pushes Yuuri’s glasses up his nose, pressing the metal cruelly into his skin. Prince Otabek is a frozen spectator to all of it.

 

But his voice is quiet, when he speaks. His eyes are sad, and he breathes.

 

“You have _no clue_ if Viktor’s even _alive_ in there, do you?” Yurio says, voice cracking.

 

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak- but shock makes him hesitate, and Yurio starts speaking over him anyway. He’s not yelling, at least. But there’s a venom, a resentment that Yuuri has come to expect.

 

 He hates it all the same.

 

“Shut up, I’m not finished. I’m not doing this for free, _Pork Cutlet Bowl_. I… you’re a friend, ok?” he admits. He leans back again, only slightly- it does nothing but give Yuuri a better view of his whole face, crestfallen and sad as much as it was defiantly angry. He continues talking- more like spits in Yuuri’s general direction, eyes averted.

 

“I was already pissed when I found out he wasn’t here with you. I’m not going to be disappointed _twice_.” He mutters. Green eyes look up.

 

“I want compensation.”

 

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. What happened to having control of the situation? What happened to having confidence in his plans?

 

Oh.

 

“I’m _confidant_ -“ he begins pointedly. “That Viktor is in there. And I’m confident he can give you what you desire, once you help me.”

 

His wings. Yuuri knows Yurio wants his wings back. Just because they haven’t talked about it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how he feels. For as much as Yurio is obtuse, his intentions are easier to read than a book.

 

Which is why Yuuri knows that at this point, Yurio cares more about Viktor than he does his magic.

 

Yurio huffs. “And if he’s not there? What will I get, then?”

 

_Depends. What do you want? What do you really want, Yurio?_

 

The boy can’t hear his thoughts, though- and that’s not a conversation he’s willing to initiate just yet. So Yuuri offers the only precious thing he has left, the first thing he can think of.

 

“I’ll give you my breath.” He says staunchly. Firm, but inside, he’s shaking. Only a little. “If Viktor happens to be gone, I might as well go with him, right?”

 

That last bit was meant as a joke, sort of.

 

It wasn’t funny.

 

Yurio unfolds his ankles, eyebrows pulled together in a frown- a determined one.

 

“…Deal.” He whispers.

 

And he sticks his hand out for Yuuri to shake.

 

He _actually_ wants a contract on this.

  
And Yuuri is _actually_ more than ready to accept it.

 

He takes Yurio’s hand.

 

“Deal.” he repeats under his breath, and then, they shake.

 

There’s a spark of magic that happens between them- Yuuri’s- and then suddenly, it’s a blizzard. It crawls up both of their arms, creeps into their ears and rolls their eyes into the back of their heads in a mind-splitting, soul-searing _pain_.

 

And then they let go, and it’s over. If Viktor isn’t in Almaty, by the ancient powers, Yurio has to take Yuuri’s life.

 

The contract is sealed.

 

Yuuri and Yurio are flung back onto the couch- both breathing  heavily in exertion, icy tendrils crawling out of their bodies, sliding down their spines and fading away. Yuuri spares a glance at Prince Otabek. Understandably, the boy looks…

 

Well. He looks mildly horrified.

 

Yuuri smiles as sweetly as he can, reassuring.

 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” he asks.

 

Prince Otabek takes pause, his hands curling into fists and only _just_ shaking.

 

“I’m- yeah. Sure.” He croaks.

 

“Do _you_ have any questions?”

 

_Hopefully not another contract_ , Yuuri thinks. Otabek thinks too- coming up with a question, no doubt. Whatever he’s thinking about, he’s mulling it over hard. Though that’s barely unusual for a guy like him.

 

What _is_ unusual is his hesitance. The softness in which he speaks, like he’s walking on glass.

 

Otabek is worried, under the surface of his gaze. The prince sucks on his dry lips, stills the stammering of his fists as Yuuri calms his breathing back to normal.

 

The prince whispers, privately, nervously. “…What happens to JJ when we win?” he asks. “And the kingdom?”

 

He looks Yuuri in the eye. A hardened soul, unsure.

 

“What am I going to do?”

 

And that’s a question neither Yuuri nor Yurio were prepared for.

 

He’d always assumed….

 

Yuuri had thought that Otabek would take vengeance on JJ, take the crown and be done with it. And if it wasn’t Otabek to take Leroy’s life, it would be Yurio. Or Yuuri himself, like he’d originally planned before the Halfling Prince arrived in his realm.

 

With Otabek’s status, it’s not Yuuri’s place to decide JJ’s fate anymore. He’s had his husband taken from him, sure- but he hasn’t lost as much as the Prince has. It’s fair that he let him have this much. It’s fair that he let him decide the fate of his own kingdom.

 

“I think… it’s up to you, Prince Otabek.” Yuuri murmurs. “What you do with the throne, and with JJ, is in your hands.”

 

“So we’re killing him?”  Yurio interrupts.

 

“No” The Prince cuts him off harshly. “No one is dying.”

 

Yurio laughs bitterly. He scowls at the Prince, looking down at him.

 

“I can’t wait to see your face when you’re wrong.”, he says, and Yuuri flinches at how morbid it is.

 

“…No one is dying.” Otabek repeats. “Not even JJ.”

 

Yurio all but growls at him.

 

Yuuri can’t say he’s displeased- he’s still sure that Prince Otabek is free to lay law as he sees fit. But his expectation that everyone will make it out alive…

 

Otabek may be a prince, but he’s young. Yuuri supposes he can sympathise with him- but that’s why he feels bad about this. This is probably his first battle. Certainly not his first taste of bloodshed, but-

 

Yuuri sighs.

 

“-Either way, I need you to think about what you’re going to do once this is over.” He says- addressing Yurio as much as he’s addressing Otabek. “You’re lucky to have the decision in your hands. Any other questions?”

 

There’s another terse silence in the living room. That’s expected of such serious conversation- Yuuri kind of just wants this over with. Makkachin didn’t come back after Yurio started yelling the first time, and Yuuri absently hopes the dog wasn’t too spooked.

 

“…If Otabek won’t kill JJ, can I?”

 

“We’re not killing JJ.” Otabek repeats firmly, a note of exasperation in his voice. Yurio hisses at him.

 

“Why not? He fucking deserves it!”

 

“Yura.” Otabek growls.

 

“Don’t ‘Yura’ me.” Yuri tests. “You know what he’s done. What’s wrong with taking vengeance? He deserves to die.”

 

Otabek brow pinches painfully- he draws in a sharp, painful breath, and Yuuri flinches.

 

He looks physically _hurt_.

 

“No one deserves to die.” He whispers “Please… don’t. Don’t say things like that.”

 

Yurio inhales, like he’s about to argue back- but then he suddenly goes silent at Otabek’s expression, at the rawness of his face. Like he’s decided against it, and if so, it’s a wise choice. Yuuri shifts in his seat- he suddenly feels awkward watching them. If it were Yuuri, he’d be mortified to have a fellow official witness a moment of weakness. In a moment, he’ll leave- but for now, he stays to hear Yurio have the last, begrudging word.

 

Typical _Kotenok_.

 

“Whatever.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Time passes.

 

In the scheme of things, a month of preparation isn’t a very long time. It seems like a lot- but once it’s over, you look back and find it was a blink in comparison.

 

It’s a lot like that for Yuuri. Days go by in routine, unremarkable, like they’d had for the months before it. Responsibility keeps his mind from wandering- taking on the problems of the people he _technically_ ruled over, caring for Makkachin, and upkeeping the Fair Realm in general.

 

But his spare time is a little less lonely than before. Grief is easier to handle when you’re not alone, Yuuri thinks, if purely for the distraction.

 

And as he always has been, Yurio is good company. When he’s not being difficult, that is.

 

As they work, though, and even as they relax or eat dinner or do anything other thing- a thought remains in the back of Yuuri’s mind. The urgency of the situation, _we only have a month to prepare for this,_ and if they fail the consequences will be dire _._ Yuuri can’t lay back as much as he’d like to. There’s _so much work_ to be done. He’s lucky the Royal Guard is in top shape, and Chris in particular is very helpful in commanding them. But when it comes to Yurio and Otabek’s personal training, for first few weeks it feels like progress is slow. The two of them seem to want to take their time.

 

“Otabek! Focus!” Yuuri yells. “Clear your mind! Unless you _want_ to flub your jumps!”

 

Yurio snorts from further away- he’s doing warmup laps on the ice, though they’re wholly unnecessary for him. Without his magic, Yurio’s skating is simply for the pleasure of it. Or even just to keep up his fitness- Yuuri knows that Yurio would want to skate, after not being able to for months. The itch is familiar to Yuuri. The need to feel the ice glide underneath your feet, to go soaring into a Quad and the satisfaction of landing surely.

 

Yurio’s bells are a nice accompaniment to the sound of slashing skates. When he speaks, they fade back into his throat- though the fairy’s criticism peals off his tongue lighter than any he’d ever given Yuuri.

 

“He’d flub the landing regardless, even if he _did_ make the jump.” Yurio remarks. “Your posture is all wrong, Beka. How long have we been doing this for?”

 

“Every day, for 4 weeks. Nearly 6 if you count the magic basics we did during travel.” Otabek replies smoothly- a note of exhaustion in his voice. If Yuuri wasn’t trying to be his coach, he’d feel sorry for him.

 

“And how many jumps have you landed? _Properly_?”

 

“…None.”

 

Yuuri laughs despite himself, and Yurio grins. “Try it again. Come on.”

 

Yurio appears to be happier, these days. More free.

 

It’s almost like… at the moment he lost his wings, he was uncuffed. His ice was a shackle around his neck- and now that it was broken, Yurio was free to exist for who he is. He was free to be a person, instead of a tool for power and glory.

 

As Yuuri understands it, Viktor went through something similar. It wasn’t until the death of the last king, Yakov, that he was able to live without the same pressure to succeed in everything. To be a powerful King someday.

 

Yuuri feels a little guilty for not realizing that Yurio was unhappy sooner. He’d never cared for his wellbeing as much as Yurio had cared for his until JJ had taken him.

 

He doesn’t think that he can make up to him enough, for that.

 

  
While Yuuri thinks, Otabek goes for another jump- the prince kicks his toe off the ice and launches into the air. And though he sticks it, with the two rotations under his belt, his landing is shaky- and he ends up falling over anyway.

 

He doesn’t hit the ice too hard, but almost immediately he’s calling out his reassurances as Yurio skates over to him.

 

“I’m fine.”  He groans- and slowly, he pulls himself up. He seems embarrassed more than he’s hurt. In an instant, Yurio is by his side, smiling under his hand.

 

Wait.

 

Since when did Yurio _help_ people like this, and not laugh in their face when they failed?

 

He wouldn’t have _ever_ leant down gingerly with and outstretched hand, and a sigh of relief if it was _Yuuri_ who’d fallen. The Halfling splutters- _Kotenok_ was helpful, sure. But he was never this _open_ about it.

 

Maybe… Yurio’s changed more than he thought? Or maybe being happy for the first time in his long life had inavertedly made him a better person.

 

Wait. No, that’s unfair. Yurio was always nice. Just not very good at expressing himself.

 

Hmm.

 

Yuuri’s left to puzzle this as the fairy brings (a thankfully unhurt) Otabek to a further corner of the frozen lake. Eventually he’s too far away, and Otabek speaking too quietly, for Yuuri to hear them.

 

What Yuuri doesn’t miss, though, is the way that the two of them never break contact. He doesn’t miss the way that Yurio holds Otabek by his forearms, and pulls the prince along gently. He doesn’t miss the patience, or the quiet look in Yurio’s forest-green eyes as he instructs him. And though Otabek’s back is turned, the tremor of his shoulders betrays a soft chuckle on his lips.

 

And then suddenly, it’s all so achingly familiar.

 

\---

 

“I _have_ to separate them.”

 

Chris’s eyes fly open, and he frowns in his recline. His head is propped up by a bent elbow, and his legs are crossed daintily over the couch- he unfolds them in a slow, curious display of all seriousness.

 

“What? Why? They seem happy together.”

 

Yuuri’s pacing. He’s picked up the habit of placing his finger on his lips when he’s thinking- though he ends up chewing on the end of his short-cut nails when he does. Nibbling around them between each quick, repetitive footstep, he babbles to Chris.

 

“I don’t- I don’t know. Well, I _do_ know, but am I- am I just being dumb?”

 

He pauses as he stops to face Chris, and he waits for an answer. The High Guard squints at Yuuri, propping up on the scratchy, poodle-bitten fabric of his cushions.

 

“…I have my own opinions.” Christoph purrs smoothly. “But I’d like to hear your reasons first. Why do you want to keep _Yurio_ and his Halfling apart?”

 

Yuuri inhales, slowly. He closes his eyes- lifts his hands up to chest level- and slowly pans them down, as if the movement could quell the anxiety in his stomach that he was so used to.

 

“They’re going to end up distracting each other.” He tries.

  
Christoph snorts. “You’re basing your decision on something that hasn’t happened yet.” he criticizes.

 

“Just- look at them!” Yuuri protests. He throws his arms out to emphasise his point. “They’re- they’re all over each other and- stuff.”

 

“And stuff.” Chris deadpans. “Feeling a little _de ja vu_ , are we?”

 

Yuuri blanches- but then he realizes that Chris… Chris is right. He did the same with Vikor. All cuddling and no practise.

 

The Halfling nods quickly- Christoph, of course, catches on. By his unimpressed look, though, he doesn’t sympathise with him.

 

“So what?” he shrugs. “You and Viktor turned out fine.”

 

The guard almost yawns in the break of his sentence, speaking slowly and calmly- completely uninterested.

 

“I’m sure you got _some_ work done in-between sessions.” He says lowly.

 

“…Sessions?”

 

Christoph looks bored.

 

“Yuuri, please. You’re married.” he sighs. “They aren’t making out right _now_ , are they?”

 

“…Chris, that’s oddly specific. And, um. No? Not that I know of?” Yuuri mumbles.

 

Christoph cheers, then- he claps his hands together, and his shiny wings flitter. “Good! You can leave them alone, then! And even if they _are_ fooling around during practice-“ he grins. “who are you to deny them?”

 

…He has a point. Yurio is in adult- he’s technically older than Viktor, and that’s saying something. Plus, Prince Otabek is… well, he’s a prince. He’s certainly responsible, and though Yuuri’s only known him for a short time, he trusts him.

 

So it’s not like Yuuri has any _duty of care_ to either of them.

 

Still. The Halfling King worries at his bottom lip tersely, and stares down at his feet as he shuffles them.

 

“…What if they lose each other, Chris?” He whines under his breath. “what if they get attached to each other, and then...”

 

“Oh, stop it.”

 

Chris doesn’t stand. But he does pull Yuuri’s attention in with his voice, and his command.

 

He’s not soft like Viktor… is. He’s staunch, and slightly exasperated. Worn with years of experience that Yuuri will never see.

 

“What happens, happens.” Christoph snaps. “If they fall in love, fine. They’re already attached at the hip as it is. And if one of them dies-“

 

A shiver of dread runs down Yuuri’s spine.

 

“-that’s not your fault. Ok? They’re responsible for their own actions.” Chris says seriously. Yuuri… stays quiet. His heart hammers a little in his chest, fear and care and all of his emotions a quiet dam, ready to burst forth if it’s opened too quickly. But for now, he’s quiet. He faintly registers Christoph still talking.

 

“Ok, Yuuri?” he asks.

 

Yuuri gathers the courage to glance at him. Even then, it’s hard. When he speaks, he chokes a little around his words, and they’re not the words he wants to really say.

 

“Y-yeah. I’m… it’s ok.” He whispers.

 

It doesn’t _feel_ ok.

 

Logically, Chris is right. Historically he has been with these things. But Yuuri’s brain doesn’t seem to _get_ logic. It trusts him as much as he trusts it- which is to say, not at all _._ And though he trusts Chris, and he trusts his family… when it comes to his anxieties, there’s only one person whose words can truly put Yuuri’s mind at ease.

 

And Yuuri, at this point, isn’t even fully convinced he’s still alive.

 

He doesn’t mean to murmur it like he does, but Yuuri chokes out a tiny, broken “I miss Viktor.” into the silence of his lounge room.

 

Christoph hears him, and softens.

 

Yuuri doesn’t want to offend him - he knows that the guard is just trying his best. Changing the topic is less awkward than Yuuri sobbing in front of Christoph again, though, or Chris trying to comfort him; so Yuuri does that.

 

“I’m seeing Phichit tomorrow.” He says quickly, putting on a brave face for now. “I scheduled the visit a while ago, but I think… now’s a good time.”

 

Christoph sighs. The fairy’s wings betray a whole host of emotions- frustration, mostly, and they beat quietly, impatient.

 

“I’ll let everyone know you’ll be out, then. Oh, and while you’re seeing him-“ He says. “-I believe he had the most _charming_ soaps when he visited for the wedding. Do you think you could bring back a few?”

 

Yuuri blinks. It was more than three years ago, but he knows what Chris is talking about.

 

“Get your own phallic soaps.” He deadpans.

 

Why does Phichit even _have_ those?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dick shaped soaps in bangkok are a thing that i came across while writing this chapter, so. nice
> 
> we're getting into finale territory... there's about five chapters left. rough estimate. im so thankful to everyone who's stuck with me. i say this every time but fuck yeah. thanks guys.


	14. Certainty

 

Time in the Fair Realm was all a blur, really- these past few weeks, the days he’d travelled with Yuri. They mix together in Otabek’s mind. They became an ever-flowing timeline, a galaxy of his life spilling across a sky peppered with stars… moments that were important. Moments in time that Otabek got to spend with Yuri. A dot for the moment they met, a spattering of stars for every campfire meal they shared. A tiny, glowing hearth for every time the fairy snuck into his room after practice, complained about the scratchy pillows on the couch and insisted on using Otabek as one instead.

 

Today was one of those moments- a star. No training, no routines. Just Otabek and Yuri.

 

The Prince still woke up just as early, though, to forest light filtering through the trees. He still woke up before Yuri, and was privy to the slow rise-and-fall of the fairy’s breath as he reached for the book under their pillows.

 

It was nice.

 

Yuri had made it clear last night that he intended to spend the day doing absolutely nothing. Otabek would have preferred to be training, honestly. He actually really liked it.

 

He liked the way Yuri’s eyes lit up when he did something right. He liked the way he’d translate the things Katsuki said into Yuri-speak, and they’d make perfect sense to Otabek- even if they were nothing more than a half a sentence and words that weren’t even words mixed in with profuse swearing. But more importantly, Otabek had a found a passion for skating, and for magic, in himself. He loved the stories he could tell when he was on the ice. He loved the music he created with the frost in his bones.

 

Reading was a nice alternative to training, though. It gave Otabek something to do with his mind by absorbing each word, his hands with the turn of each page, and his mouth as he reads it aloud in hushed tones. Otabek hopes he didn’t wake Yuri up, though, with his murmuring of love-poems by pining hearts long gone.

 

From beside him, Yuri stretches.

 

His back ripples with all its hidden strength at the pull of muscle, the roll of his exposed shoulders where Katsuki Mari’s hand-me-downs are too big on him. There’s always been something provocative about that. About the nakedness of Yuri’s collar, though Otabek has seen him fully undressed more than once. These flashes of skin on his neck, and the strip of Yuri’s smooth, unblemished stomach, were like a spotlight for the Prince’s attention. The sheet slips down as Yuri stretches, and he smiles like a Cheshire for how Otabek’s eyes follow. To the reach of his arms, down his neck and cascading golden hair falling over his eyes.

 

Then, to his lips. How they’re taut in a tired, cheeky smile.

 

Yuri’s lips are always shiny- never chapped- and he sucks on them so much that they’re constantly cherry-red, bitten to a blush. Otabek knows, because he thinks about them a lot. A little too much?

 

Whatever the cause, it’s something more than just admiring Yuri’s physicality. It’s different to the way that Otabek admires his strength, his beauty and flexibility- the things that Otabek could never be.

 

His thoughts trail off at the end of the poem he was reading. At the sound of Yuri’s quiet sighs in the gentle mid-morning, the Prince smiles fondly.

 

“Good morning” Otabek says.

 

“Morning, Beka.” Yuri replies. And then- “You always like this?”

 

Otabek purses his lips.

 

“Always like what?” he asks, and Yuri shuffles himself into a sitting position.

 

“Always such a big fucking sap.” The blonde boy slurs, tongue still sharp through his bleary gaze. He’s still only half-awake.

 

Otabek chuckles at that, and he relishes in the way that Yuri’s eyes hood- the way he smiles so genuinely- at the sound.The blonde seemed to have gotten the idea in his head that Otabek was a hopeless romantic. Which might have been true in some ways-  but for all his enjoyment of poetry and novels, he’d never tried to write them for himself.

 

Looking at Yuri, though- especially Yuri right now- Otabek thinks that maybe, he could.

 

The Prince doesn’t dare voice the thoughts he has about him, though. He knows they’re cheesy. Probably really bad. But he likes to indulge in them, like to imagine himself painting his thoughts into a picture and watching Yuri’s face blush lily-red as he reads them. That might be easier than trying to label what he feels, after all. Everything with Yuri was something new to Otabek- and not just because a good chunk of his past is still lost to the haze of amnesia.

 

Otabek has never had someone, besides his sister, that he could call a friend.

 

 

He’s tempted to fall back asleep with the boy, but that would be a waste of a perfectly good morning. With a tiny nudge to his arm, Otabek manages to jostle him fully awake.

 

\---

 

A while ago, Katsuki had asked Otabek what he was going to do after they took back Almaty. Truth be told, he’s still not sure. He hasn’t had the time to think about it. Not with training taking up half of his mindspace, and Yuri taking up the other.

 

On their day off, though, Otabek finally has time to ponder it. And he does- it’s later in the morning now, and it’s unusually cold today, for eternal spring.

 

Yuri tells the Prince he looks pensive- but he still, he asks him “What’s up?” in casual, vaguely concerned tone.

 

Otabek sighs. It disturbs the steam that rises around his hands through the air, in a little swirl. “I’m thinking about Almaty.”  He says.

 

“Why?” Yuri asks. ”Are you scared?”

 

“...Scared of what comes afterwards, maybe.” Otabek murmurs.

 

Yuri frowns, then. He holds a cup of green tea close to his chest- the intensely bitter kind that Katsuki’s family served at their inn. Otabek had no clue if the fairy actually enjoyed the taste, but the ritual of making it and the warmth it provided was pleasant. Otabek takes a sip of his own barely-scalding tea, before he speaks.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know if I want to rule, but… what choice do I have, Yura?”

 

The boy is a warming sight. This moment here- a fairy and his prince, together on the floor swaddled up like newborns. And Yuri wrapped in the cloak that used to be Otabek’s, the one he refused to burn even though it was torn and bore a crest that could have gotten either of them killed in the human realm.

 

Yuri looks cute like this, all bundled together. His expression, too, is endearing- the little crease between his eyes.

 

Like sensing his thoughts, Yuri frowns at Otabek harder.

 

“The fuck you smiling at?” he asks, incredulous. Not venomous, though- teasing, more than anything.

 

Otabek can’t stop his mouth before it replies.

 

“You.” He says.

 

And it’s true, of course.

 

Yuri’s always made him smile. It’s just a little odd that it should be at this particular sight. This particular revelation that Otabek finds Yuri utterly loveable with a pout and a mug of tea that he holds between his hands, fingers tugging at and wrapping around his cloak to block out the heat.

 

There’s a short silence before Yuri grumbles, and he darts his green eyes away.

 

“Fucking sap.” He mutters, for the second time that morning. He takes another sip of his tea- and if Yuri seems to be annoyed where he wasn’t before, then the Prince doesn’t notice it, or wonder why it may be so.

 

\---

 

In the end, though, Otabek has always been unobservant.

 

\---

 

“You coming in or what?”  Yuri calls, grumbling a little more than usual.

 

The mist of the Onsen swirls around Otabek’s feet, rising into the twilight air. He and Yuri often came here together after training. It was a way for Otabek, to relax himself- and he has to admit, he’s fallen asleep in the bath at least twice.

 

(One of those two times he’d woken with a slap-to-the-face from Sara Crispino. It didn’t fade from a sickly poison-purple for a week).

 

For someone who works with Ice magic, a hot soak is nothing short of divine. But with no training today, neither Yuri nor Otabek had a reason to come here. Yuri had just insisted on being clean.

 

Otabek remembers when he used to complain about it.

 

The fairy is perched by the side of the spring. He lies on his front, chest flat to the ground and his arms cradling his chin. Otabek watches him- and as he does, he finally registers that he’d asked him a question.

 

Yuri lets out a huff of air.

 

“I said-“ he repeats himself, patronizingly slow. “You coming in, or what?”

 

Otabek blinks.

 

“Ah. No. I figured… you’d rather be alone.” Otabek answers. Adds- “I don’t need to be here.”

 

At that, Yuri’s eyes shoots daggers at Otabek. He doesn’t know why, but the fairy’s lips suddenly curl up into a growl.

 

“Nevermind. Not a question. You get in the bath, or you _leave_.” He snaps.

 

Otabek is taken aback. A noise of question sticks itself in his throat, and he airs in it his confusion.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks- because even for Yuri, that kind of temper wasn’t normal.

 

The fairy _glowers_ at him.

 

“What’s wrong,” Yuri says dangerously, eyes narrowing, “is that _you_ can’t make up your mind. And when you do, you only ever do what you _think_ is best.” He criticizes, jabbing a free finger in Otabek’s direction.

 

The Prince frowns, linking his hands together in a nervous gesture.

 

“…Where is this coming from?”

 

Yuri dips his head for a second, like he’s thinking. Then when looks back up, he huffs- a little less on edge, like he’s purposely culling his temper.

 

“You said this morning… that you didn’t know what you were going to do. After Almaty.”

 

“Because… I don’t” Otabek hesitates.

 

“But what about me-?!” Yuri cracks. He sits up, now- though he covers his front with folded arms for modesty, he’s no less intimidating. “How about asking how I feel about this? Huh?”

 

Frankly, Otabek is confused.

 

“…How _do_ you feel, Yura?” he tries.

 

It was a pretty poor shot.

 

Yuri recoils.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He spits.

 

He doesn’t even acknowledge the nickname.

 

“Yknow that? You’re a dumbass.” Yuri hisses again.

 

The fairy rises out of the water- slowly, tensely, and very, very close to snapping. His golden hair dripping, he seems to forget that he’s stark-fucking-naked, and instead storms towards Otabek without even grabbing a towel.

 

The Prince genuinely doesn’t understand where any of this is coming from, and he’s floundering. Yuri squints further at him, speaks quietly like Otabek is skating on thin ice.

 

He’s pissed. He’s upset.

 

The Prince can see it up close- the fairy forces his face right into Otabek’s personal space, threatening, and all of his emotions radiate strongly within his flickering green eyes.

 

They falter, but only briefly, when Yuri speaks.

 

“…Was I ever an option?” he asks, voice quavering a little in honesty. “Whether you take the throne or not, Beka, why are you just… assuming what I want?” he croaks.

His face is far, far too close.

 

The prince finds himself incoherent- as Yuri protests, he swallows thickly. The fairy stares Otabek down in challenge, fists clenched, voice rising.

 

“Is it... if you think you’re ‘doing what’s best’ for me, you’re wrong.” He says.

 

“-I don’t.” Otabek breahtes out. “I don’t think that. I’m just unsure, Yura.”

 

“Unsure about _what_?” Yuri spits. Pleads. A mix of both.

 

_Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up._

 

“I’m… unsure as to why you would think my future has anything to do with you.”

 

Otabek fucks up.

 

Yuri is gone within two seconds, and Otabek doesn’t get to see his expression as he retreats. He leaves without even looking at Otabek, bare feet making messy puddles of water on the smooth-stone exterior of the bath, and all down the hall.

 

\---

 

Yuri doesn’t go near him for the rest of the night.

 

He doesn’t go near him, because Yuri had barricaded Otabek out of the house.

 

 

The fairy had pushed everything he can think of- his bed, the bookshelves and the coffee table- to jam up the cottage doors. He’d barricaded the windows, too. Otabek knows, because he’d checked them and is left severely disappointed.

 

And very frustrated.

 

He doesn’t understand what he did wrong. When he calls for Yuri, the fairy pointedly ignores him for the next half-hour before finally screaming blue-murder at him. He curses Otabek’s name in several languages (one of which would have _literally_ cursed him, were his body still filled with magic), and Otabek is forced, in the end, to give up.

 

It’s absolutely pointless to try and talk to Yuri when he’s like this. The fairy isn’t going to listen when he’s upset, and Otabek doesn’t even know why he tried in the first place.

 

So now, he’s left to feel like absolute garbage, and sit outside the cottage door.

 

And fuck it- he’s so goddamn _tired_. This whole disaster be so much easier if he just… hated Yuri. Hated the fae like every other human does, for being so finnicky, so cruel and hurtful. Otabek thinks this and regrets it almost immediately, because _how could he hate Yuri_?

 

The fact that he _doesn’t_ hate him got him into this mess in the first place.

 

He buries his face in his hands.

 

All of Otabek’s feelings, right now, twist into him like a knife. The feeling that Otabek _still cares about Yuri_ even though the fairy had hurt him (several times, may he add- though that’s unfair. Yuri had apologised for all of them) is the emotional equivalent of being gutted. A second knife, twisting harder, pulls deeper and draws away his breath. That one yells at Otabek that he’s been awful, he’s an awful person because _you hurt him, you made him angry,_ and that one is Guilt.

 

Otabek might be hopeless, but he can still put a name to things. Most of the time.

The Prince still doesn’t fully understand what he did wrong, though. What he’d said back at the Onsen was objective fact- _Yuri_ and _Otabek_ aren’t a pair. They were never _tied_ to each other- the Prince’s future should belong to him, and him alone.

 

But since when did Otabek trust _facts_ , anyway?

 

Otabek’s shoulders begin to shake.

 

It’s foolish- but he is a fool. Yuri’s right about him, in an infinite number of ways

 

 

\---

 

 

“…Are you sure, Phichit?” Yuuri breathes.

 

The other man smiles- small, sad. But ultimately, he knows this news is a good thing.

 

“Viktor is fine.” He says, voice trembling with excitement. “Bored, but fine. And he’s in Almaty! He’s in the catacombs a little below the throne room. The attack can go ahead.”

 

Yuuri’s laughter is all too sudden- and it’s wet with a mix of emotions, but mostly sheer _relief_. The news is like a punch to the gut, in a good way. Yuuri can’t describe it- but if he were forced to, he’d say he felt completely, totally and utterly _overwhelmed,_ for lack of anything else.

 

Still, he laughs awkwardly.

 

“Of course he’s b-bored.” he sniffs. “It’s just like him.”

 

There’s a rush of things that course through the halfling, from the pit of his stomach up through his throat, and it overflows. Shyly, Yuuri reaches out to hug Phichit from across the table, and the merchant more than happily meets him halfway.

 

He pulls Yuuri close through his giggling sobs.

 

“Oh gods, I’m so…. Thank you, Phichit.” The Halfling’s shoulders shake. His voice muffled into the shoulders of the merchant’s brightly patterned robes. “For- for everything. I should have come earlier.” He says.

 

“You should’ve.” Phichit scolds lightly, rapping Yuuri on the back. “Why didn’t you, anwyway? I missed you so much!”

 

“I missed you too.” Yuuri chuckles quietly. “But I didn’t want to be a bother.”

 

Phichit pulls back, then. He holds the Halfling by his shoulders, firmly, and looks into his deep, wet brown eyes.

 

“You’re never a bother.” He sighs, smiling sweetly.

 

Yuuri’s eyes dart away, then- and fishes off his glasses to wipe at dripping eyes.

 

“…I know.” He whispers, after a moment. His smile is lopsided, but it’s genuine when he speaks to Phichit. “Thank you. Again.”

 

The merchant’s mouth pulls into a wide, loving grin.

 

“You don’t need to thank me.” He chuckles, and he pulls Yuuri in again for a kiss to the temple, for another smothering hug. “You’re my best friend, Yuuri.” He says.

 

Yuuri hums happily into his chest.

 

“You too.” He replies, and Yuuri has to resist the urge to thank him for a third time.

 

 

_Viktor is alive_. _He’s ok. He’s alive. This’ll all be over, soon._

 

 

\---

 

 

Otabek had been sitting by the front door for hours. Night had fallen- like a heavy blanket dampening the sun.

 

He hasn’t said a word to Yuri since the last time he’d screamed through the door. At some point, he’d actually fallen asleep- and he was thrown into a fitful dream that left his neck sore, and his chest stinging.

 

He’d dreamt of a different scenario in the hotspring- one where he’d joined Yuri like he’d supposed to, and he’d waded over to rest his head on the back of the boy’s neck. He’d asked how he felt then, too- but with a hand trailing down his back, it was about his wings, instead of his emotions.

 

Dream-Yuri had rolled his powerful shoulders, the blades of them jutting out where his wings were once embedded.

 

“ _You can feel, if you like_ ” he’d whispered.

 

Otabek had. He’d ghosted over the expanse of his unblemished alabaster back, and at the shudders it produced from the fairy- the way he’d leant into him- Otabek had sucked his mouth deeply into his skin.

 

Then halfway through, Sara Crispino had shown up from nowhere and pushed Otabek off with a hand to his chest. That’s when he’d woken up.

 

The pain nestled in his ribs was surely a phantom of Dream-Crispino’s magic.

 

\---

 

Overall, Otabek feels rather sober. He’s sure this will all blow over, but right now, it’s _shit_.

 

As the minutes tick by and the night continues, his solitude is interrupted by the quiet drone of teleportation magic. It rises to a crescendo, ringing in Otabek’s ears surprisingly loud, and it crackles.

 

Then there’s a _puff_ of smoke in the night. Otabek’s head shoots up to look at it, and in front of him, a figure stands. Looming.

 

Stammering.

 

“…Oh. P-Prince Otabek!” Katsuki blinks. The raven-haired Halfling almost blends in with the trees in the dark, but Otabek spots him. He stiffens, and adjusts his glasses.

 

“I, um. Hello!”

 

It’s a little anticlimactic, and certainly very awkward for the both of them.

 

This is the second time the Halfling King has caught Otabek off guard. It’s a little less weird, now, since they know each other better- but neither of them are good with people, so their conversations are either unnecessarily deep or stilted with pauses and hesitant stuttering.

 

If anyone knew Yuri best, though, it’s Katsuki.

 

The King’s confusion melts away once he registers Otabek’s face. And his position- curled up outside his front door in the dark, knees drawn to his chest in a semi-foetal position.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, because it’s clear very quickly that _something_ is wrong with Otabek. The Prince isn’t about to deny he looks terrible.

 

“…we had a fight.” He whispers, and though he doesn’t specify who ‘we’ is, Katsuki knows. He hums thoughtfully, considering.

 

Otabek can hear the frown in his voice.

 

“Can I go in?” he inquires. “Since this is my house.”

 

Otabek doesn’t reply, but he shuffles over from where he’s blocking the front door. Maybe Yuri would’ve moved the furniture by now. Maybe he’d forgotten that Otabek was here.

 

Katsuki strolls over, and with a look of appreciation, he grabs the doorknob.  He pushes it in- stops, frowns, then pulls it. Hard. He jiggles it to all hell and back.

 

He’s not getting in.

 

“The door’s jammed.” Katsuki informs him.

 

“I know. He blocked it.” Otabek mumbles in reply.

 

Katsuki’s head twists to peer down at Otabek, through the tint of his glasses. The Prince can almost hear his thoughts- _what the fuck did you do, Altin?_

He’s far too polite to say that.

 

“…Ah. I see.” The King responds impartially, instead.

 

Around them both, a gust of oddly cold wind howls. It brings with it a clinical smell, and Otabek wonders momentarily if nature normally was this... sterile.

 

The nights in the Fair Realm are always quiet. But as the sun goes down, it leaves in its wake a different silence each day. Mostly it’s the nice kind of quiet- the quiet where Otabek can focus on his thoughts, or listen to the howling of a nicer-smelling wind outside his window, instead of this weird medicinal one.

 

Sometimes, like the night before, it’s a different sort of quiet. A quiet that’s filled by the shifting of sheets and Yuri’s soft, even breathing that still sticks in his mind, even when he’s not by his side.

 

 The night isn’t like that now. It’s an awful kind of quiet. Silent, oppressive, and judging.

 

It should be obvious why.

 

 

Katsuki must see that. Must feel the mood in the air, because before Otabek knows it, the King has slid down to the floor to sit next to him. Otabek turns his head to peek at him- the man reaches around himself to echo the Princes drawn-in, mournful position. Though he looks out to the night with sparkling, thoughtful eyes, that are in contrast to Otabek’s worn-out red ones. The Prince can immediately see that the break was good for Katsuki. He doesn’t need to ask to know that the King had gotten good news.

 

Otabek silently thanks him for not bringing it up.

 

Yuuri just… observes his realm, on this night. Takes in the atmosphere, the black, shadowy trees and the darkened scenery.

 

The sterile quiet.

 

And then, he speaks.

 

“Yurio… likes Pirozhki.” He starts.

 

Otabek perks up fully. He looks at Katsuki again- but the man offers no cure to his confusion. Simply continues, raising a single brow over his frames.

 

“You wanna make up with him, right?” Katsuki says, breaking their eye contact abruptly. “The key to a fairy’s heart is through their stomach.”

 

He frowns.

 

“Well, uh. They technically don’t _have_ stomachs, b-but…”

 

Katsuki’s eyes hood over slightly, and he smiles, nostalgic. He’s not finishing that sentence.

 

It’s a surprise to see him like this. The King- and Otabek’s coach- is completely unguarded in the Prince’s presence. When he whispers like this, it’s honest. Like if he speaks from the heart, truly, he can reach in and cure Otabek’s misery.

 

He addresses him by his first name, instead of his title.

 

“I hope… I hope you care for him as much as I do, Otabek.”

 

His pale voice becomes frost in the night. After a moment, the Prince whispers back.

 

“I think I do.”

 

Katsuki turns to him, then. His wandering brown eyes are intense- almost frighteningly so.

 

“You _think_?” he questions, voice raised a little. “You think, or are you _sure_?”

 

Yuri’s voice echoes in Otabek’s mind.

 

His disgust with idea of only _thinking_ about what he was going to do and never acting on it. Leading the fairy along, and not involving him in his future once Almaty fell- when Yuri thought he _should have been._

 

Otabek had made him think, whether he’d meant to or not, that they would stay together. And that _hurt_. It hurt, because deep down, it’s what Otabek really wanted, but was always too afraid to ask for.

 

The Prince sees, now, why he shouldn’t have said what he did. Why he needed to be _sure_ , for Yuri. He whispers regretfully into the sterile wind, not so much answering Katsuki’s question as he is airing his own, pitiful thoughts.

 

“I know.” He says. And,“I should have been clearer with him. He should have been clearer with me. We both... I’m sorry.”

 

Katsuki hums in close consideration.

 

“I don’t… really know what happened between you.” He says. But I’m curious to your new answer.”

 

 He eyes, behind his glasses, go soft. “Will you tell me?”

 

Otabek frowns at him. A moment of confusion, before Katsuki’s eyes widen, and he prompts- “O-oh. Do you still only _think,_ that is? That you care about Yurio.”

 

Oh.

  
In that moment, the Prince is forced to examine himself. He stares at his hands, like he’s physicalizing the process. He looks deep into his heart- further, his soul- and he searches, he searches.

 

He doesn’t have to look far.

 

_Oh_ , he thinks again. _Oh_.

 

It’s… a quiet kind of revelation.

 

“I’m…” Otabek stutters. “I’m… certain. I’m _certain_.”

  
He cares about Yuri. He definitely wants to be a part of his life. He definitely wants them to be together, for as long as they can. _Forever_.

 

When Otabek looks at Yuuri, he seems… pleased.

 

Maybe he’d felt unsure like this about his own husband, once upon a time.

 

\---

 

From behind the door, and the coffee table jamming the lock, Yuri hears everything.  

 

And though he’d thought his tears had dried long ago- shakily, he pushes his hands into his face.

 

Of course _Pork Cutlet Bowl_ had to waltz right into this mess. He’d heard him jiggle the doorknob, but when he’d started talking with Otabek it’d been so loud- he was practically _forced_ to listen in, and Yuri has no doubts that it was that asshole’s plan all along.

 

Fuck. _Fuck_.

 

Yuri is left to claw at his puffy green eyes, and he ignores Makkachin’s whining as his chest coils angrily, and _beats_. He’s warm all over, and it’s like needles in his skin. He can’t breathe. He’s sure he could a minute ago.

 

 

_I hope you care for him as much as I do, Otabek._

 

_I’m certain._

The fairy can’t help himself, really. He sinks to his knees, and his hair falls to frame his reddened face.

 

Yuri bursts out into sobs.

 

 

\---

 

 

The thing about fighting with your best friend is that, in the end, nothing you fought about actually mattered.

 

The thing about fighting with someone you love, apparently, is the same- except it leads you to fall asleep on your doorstep long after Katsuki has left to bunk elsewhere. And then the person you were fighting with finally pulls away the furniture after not sleeping at all, and while you’re unconscious, they bring you inside with gentle hands and stay with you, even as you snore on an old, dog-fur covered couch.

 

 

When Otabek does wake, he doesn’t expect to be inside. He certainly doesn’t expect Yuri to be there, either, curled up by the side of the couch like he’d fallen asleep sitting.

 

When Otabek calls his name, he doesn’t expect his eyes to slowly open, and when he notices that Otabek is awake, for them to widen in apprehension.

 

“I’m sorry.” Otabek stammers out, before Yuri can make a move. Like he _expects_ Yuri to make a move, but he doesn’t. His bare feet pull threads from the carpet, and hesitantly-

 

Yuri says “I’m sorry”, too.

 

Then they’re back to the way they were yesterday morning.

 

Light, and maybe a little more tearful, but the heaviness dragging at Otabek’s heart disappears with Yuri’s full, green eyes and a look that _begs_ him not to run away.

 

He doesn’t plan on it, so its fine.

 

Because he can, Otabek sits up, and he gently reaches his hand out for Yuri.

 

Staring at him in apprehension, the fairy rises- and with curled, dainty fingers, he accepts him.

 

When Otabek does nothing, the fairy stares down, to mull over the connection. To appreciate the way his pale digits fit smugly, if not a little awkwardly into Otabeks, callouses and all. He looks at Otabek expectantly, and yet still nothing happens.

 

As he opens his mouth to speak, Yuri is pulled.

 

With a little yelp, he lurches forwards. The Prince mightn’t be as strong as his fairy is, but he’s is able to manoeuvre so that, with a tug, Yuri is suddenly over with him on the lounge.

 

The fairy stumbles, and since Otabek leans back to accommodate the fall, they tumble further, further down, and then in the space of a second, they crash together.

 

Yuri ends up in a heap on top of him.

 

There’s a moment where the both of them just… breathe it in. Yuri’s chest heaving with exertion, and Otabek matching his breaths- the heartbeat he can feel pressed against his own.

 

The Prince smiles giddly.

 

He decides that he loves looking at Yuri like this. Up into his eyes- at the pout he finds so endearing. It’s just like when they first met, with Yuri hovering over a half-dead boy with no memories and a mission to chase the sound bells into the forest.

 

He’d found them, all right.

 

Right now, the Prince would have half the mind to reach up and press into his cheek- but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his other hand to Yuri’s, all-so-tenderly.

 

The boy accepts it without hesitance, and he stares down- down into Otabek’s own eyes. Right into his heart. When he speaks, it’s in whispered breaths, with a delightful tension that only comes with this kind of closeness. Otabek relishes when he gets it, because always, he’s craving it. Always, he’s craving Yuri.

 

The fairy leans down further- if that’s even possible- and then they’re nose to nose, forehead to forehead, in a positon that’s not too unfamiliar to them. But for the first time, Otabek thinks- it’s the closest thing to a kiss he’s ever had. It could turn into a kiss, if he really wanted to.

 

But for now, he’s just content to listen to Yuri whisper. So close it’s practically into his mouth.

 

“…You hurt my shoulder, asshole.” He whispers.

 

Otabek laughs.

 

Softly, gently. Katsuki told him he had bells- and though Otabek couldn’t hear his own, he hopes that they’re soft in Yuri’s ears, too. He hopes that Yuri loves his laugh as much as Otabek loves him.

 

“Sorry.” He says again. For his shoulder, though he’ll apologize for whatever wrongs he’s done to Yuri for as long as he needs it, and mean every syllable of it.

 

And then Otabek registers the kinds of thoughts he’s having, and he laughs again.

 

“Am I- Am I really that much of a sap?” he giggles.

 

He knows the answer already.

 

Yuri blinks.

 

“Um. Yes?” He snickers. “You’re probably thinking some romantic shit right now, knowing you.”

 

Otabek hums.

 

He does know him. Very well, in fact.

 

“But romantic, you say?”

 

At that, Yuri groans. His forehead slips away from Otabek’s, and he hides his face in the crook of the man’s neck, voice barely muffled.

 

“Don’t read into it, Altin.” He whispers.

 

Otabek doesn’t.

 

Because he really doesn’t have to.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inb4 the influx of valentines fics (and chris birthday fics lmao)
> 
> this should be the last establishing chapter. i didn't feel comfy moving straight to almaty for some reason, so i added this. its a lot of scenes i wanted 2 do since chapter 1 but never got to, i think.
> 
> i'll go back and refine this later if i need. thanks guys!!


	15. Yuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warning for Yuri being misgendered halfway through. this is the only time it'll happen.

 

The final week passes like the sun. Like the rest of their lives- insignificantly, with little fanfare for the hours that ticked by. And when the Battle of Almaty finally does dawn, it hits Otabek like a ton of bricks. Like love.

 

Slowly, then all at once.

 

He holds Yuri close, when it does. Yuri holds Otabek close, too, and they lie together like this time would be their last. Though they wanted forever- wanted to say that they could stay by each other’s sides- no promises were made. Otabek _wanted_ to promise. He wanted Yuri to promise it to him.

 

But he knows how Yuri feels about it. He’s scared, scared of banking on a promise that one of them might not be able to keep.

 

 

What Otabek got was this:

 

 

Yuri, awake earlier than either of them should have been, stalking out of his (Their, his and Otabek’s) bedroom, and retrieving the cloak. _That_ cloak. The dirty, torn, crest-of-Almaty cloak that he’d worn and insulted on the very first day. The cloak that Yuri never let go of, regardless.

 

Yuri takes it, and wraps it around Otabek’s shoulders with far-away eyes, and a whisper.

 

“I never said ‘thanks’, did I?”

 

Otabek takes ragged cloth between his fingers. Thumbs it gently, caressing it in how it’s been torn, and used well by the green-eyed fairy. The drag of his fingers tease out threads of nostalgia in his mind, and Otabek says, truthfully-

 

“I never expected you to.”

 

 

He doesn’t want it back.

 

 

\---

 

While Yuuri may be the King, High Guard Christophe is of military command. It’s his job to patrol the line, to call upon the royal army. And while he ultimately takes orders from Katsuki, it’s through him that Otabek and Yuri receive their initial rundown.

 

The High Guard rakes his eyes down this row of people- two fae and two humans, lined up and backs straight in the nervous wind. He eyes every one of them; Mila (looking eager), a red-haired sprite (looking even _more_ eager), Yuri (who looks bored more than anything, really)- and then finally, Otabek himself.

 

(who, to his credit, does not fidget. or get distracted by Yuri’s hand ghosting besides his, or the fluttering of That cloak, which he’s wearing, in the wind)

 

Sara Crispino is present, too. But she stands closed off to the side with Katsuki, for she cannot join them. Her magic has no use outside of espionage- she’d be more of a liability than anything. So she stays behind.

 

Crispino has eyes for no-one but Mila, for whom she watches- Otabek notices- with a worried, violet gaze. Otabek wonders if they’d promised each other their safety, like he and Yuri hadn’t.

 

Christophe- _High Guard_ Christophe- suddenly speaks, in a voice like a serpent. His wings flit with danger and anticipation.

 

“This day has been a long time coming.” He begins, surely. “I pray you’re all prepared?”

 

The four reply with a chant of “Yes, sir!”, and Christophe grins hungrily.

 

“Good.” He purrs. “You’re all aware of the plan. Halfling-“ he points to Otabek.

 

Otabek stiffens. “Yes, sir.”

 

“You’re flying with Mila.”

 

“Flying?” Otabek frowns. Christophe rolls his eyes, and sighs loudly. It’s odd- his military persona breaks momentarily, purely to chide him.

 

“How _else_ are we travelling to Almaty?” he says. “We can’t just _teleport_. They’ll hear us from a mile away!”

 

Yuri snickers from beside Otabek- the Prince takes that as a cue to elbow him in the ribs, and the fairy whimpers.

 

Christophe must have noticed them, because he snaps back into commander mode- and lilts his finger at Yuri.

 

“Kitten.” He directs.

 

Yuri ignores his tone and sticks the finger up at him. Christophe replies to the gesture with a withered look.

 

“Charming. You’re flying with Minami.”

 

There’s a high-pitched squeal from down the short line, and Yuri’s bravado completely crumples with the name _Minami_. He doubles over dramatically, gasping in mock-pain.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ put me with _them_!” Yuri hisses.

 

Christophe giggles.

 

“Too late!” he sings, and the red-haired sprite- Minami- shrieks again. Christophe continues.

 

“Meanwhile, I’ll be flying with Yuuri. Any questions?”

 

No one responds but the wind, and the eternal-spring leaves as they shake.

 

Katsuki steps forward, stoutly, as no questions are raised. He takes a place beside his Guard- and turns towards the row of four. His own, hand-picked squad, tasked with distracting the enemy while Yuri takes down the barrier meant to keep out Fae.

 

“We leave now, then.” He says, astoundingly calm and even. He’s loud, though- surprisingly good at projecting, and for an anxious man, he’s excellent at hiding it.

 

 “Once we exit the Fair Realm, be ready for anything.”

 

The King stands staunch- he’s dressed in militant garb for the occasion, as are Otabek and the rest of this elite force. Looking at him, one could mistake him for a common soldier. But an odd one, perhaps- since he hasn’t removed his glasses, and apparently doesn’t intend to.

 

His hair is slicked back with ice, though, and his gaze is steely.

 

He’s ready.

 

So is everyone else.

 

“Good luck.” Katsuki says fiercely, and ‘good luck’ also means ‘don’t die’.

 

But Otabek has faith. Whether that faith is misplaced, time will tell.

 

 

The crest of Almaty sits heavy on his back.

 

 

\---

 

Flying is… weird.

 

It’s rather uncomfortable, being dangled from Mila’s (surprisingly surly) arms- but as they soar, the forest below them rushes past. The blur it causes is dizzying- surreal, in all of its senses- and Otabek’s head is as light for as heavy he feels being tugged along. The cloak drags out behind Otabek like his own set of wings, and it takes a while for him to get used to it.

 

Soon, though, he’s caught up in the frantic, intense beat of fairy wings. There’s something familiar about their flapping sound. Like the familiarity of tinkling bells, he supposes. Katsuki and Christophe were right- the squadron are quieter than they would’ve been had they teleported. Even though a fairy’s wings produces sound, it’s still significantly softer than the loud droning noise of several people phasing through space.

 

That is, it would be. If Yuri could _stop complaining._

 

To be fair, Minami tries to talk his ear off the whole time. They ask questions over the green-eyed boy’s shrieks- “What’s it like to be a human?” they say, and “Do you feel naked without wings?” And “Oh! Is Yuuri your dad?”

 

Yuri _screeches_ at the last one- slogging a hurl of insults at the red-haired sprite- before he’s cut off, his protests ceasing with a choke. Otabek swivels his head best he can to check on them. What he sees is Yuri- face sheet-white and the fairy, Minami, grinning far too wide. They dangle Yuri by a single arm, one hand caught over his thin wrist. The boy kicks his legs in panic, and he makes the mistake of looking down.

 

With an unamused grunt from Otabek, Minami adjusts their position into something a lot safer.

 

“Whoops!” Minami cheers. “Nearly dropped you there!”

 

Yuri doesn’t complain for the rest of the trip.

 

\---

 

Otabek wants to go back.

 

As soon as they land, he feels dreadful. Literally dreadful. It rises in his stomach like bile- _he wants to go back,_ but of _course_ here isn’t safe. He knows the feeling wasn’t because of the flight. It’s different sort of nausea.

 

It’s just his instincts getting the better of him.

 

The Prince’s hands shake- he knows exactly where they’re standing. Just a little off of a well-travelled road, right outside the castle walls. It’s cobblestone. Old and worn and stained with hundreds of years, and Otabek _knows_ this place like a message on the back of his hand he’d written, but forgot. The fae squadron are positioned at the edge of the forest with Katsuki in the lead. Their forms, collectively, blend into the forest-grey trees, darkened by the afternoon. Smoke, snow, and the smells of a city drift lazily through the air.

 

And yet, everything feels tense.

 

“The sun is above us. Perfect.” Katsuki whispers in command. He turns around, and points.

 

“Yuri- you have at least two hours where the light will obscure your movements. Have you got a way in?”

 

Yuri’s reply is immediate.

 

“Lilly garden, like five minutes from here. Otabek smashed a hole in the wall that I doubt anyone’s covered.”

 

“I did?” Otabek mutters, without thinking.

 

Yuri eyes glitter mischievously.

 

“I’ll tell you later.” He mouths.

 

Otabek smiles, before he moves on.

 

“Your Highness-“ he says, addressing Katsuki. “Will the light obscure _our_ movements, also? We can’t distract the guards if they can’t see us.”

 

The King looks at Otabek and grins- a tilt of his glasses, and the light gleams off of it almost menacingly.

 

“We can. And in fact, I think we can do better than just _distract_ them.”

 

Otabek thinks Katsuki enjoys being King a little _too_ much. He plays at being in power like he was born to perform.

 

“We can make them completely blind.”

 

\---

 

The thing about the calm before the storm is that it’s deceptive. You don’t always realize what it is until the chaos hits.

 

For Michele, it’s a day on patrol.

 

He’d finished his shift guarding Viktor- not that he needed a guard. The barrier over his cell kept him in, whether he liked it or not. Only Leroy, or the other full-bloods around here could pass through freely. Not Michele, of course. Though he’d never had the need to.

 

The Fairy King had talked his ear off today, about the dog that his husband had named after him- years before they’d even met. Something about a local legend, which somehow his husband (-Yuuri. Michele resented the fact he remembered his name-) didn’t realize was about his then-coach.

 

This ‘Yuuri’ also hadn’t realized that his coach was the Prince- later _King_ \- of Ice Fairies. Then again- Michele could hardly believe it himself. Though Viktor looked regal, he behaved like a flighty child. He had nothing of the serious air Michele had come to expect from nobles, back when he and his sister were the children of trader merchants, flirting around the higher courts.

 

 Emil, of course, had found Viktor’s tales nothing short of adorable. Michele had to remind him daily that Viktor was a prisoner, not a house guest _,_ and that they were _professional_ _guards_. Meant to _guard_ him. Not chat.

 

At this point, ‘guard’ may as well be a synonym for ‘motherfucking _babysitter’_.

Assignments had the Italian on break, but he found himself positioned instead by the castle walls. Bloody understaffing- it wasn’t _his_ fault that the High Commander had decided to purge the guard.

 

Michele thinks- and nervously, he grips his lance with gloved, leather fists.

 

He wondered, secretly, if King Leroy was the one in control anymore. He gave orders, sure. But ever since the Usurper was arrogant enough to let his fairy dissolve their contract, he’d been close to powerless. Why _else_ would he let his own officer destroy half their platoon, based on blood? They lost half their firepower! And everyone _knows_ that half-fae are more powerful than human mages. Michele and his sister were living proof!

 

Were anyone else but him and Sara, though- Michele wouldn’t trust someone with fairy blood, either.

 

…Whatever.

 

This was still Leroy’s mess. _He’s_ the one who murdered King Altin, and did god-knows-what to the rest of the Royal Family. The least he could do was finished what he’d started _properly_.

 

Michele was just here to follow orders. And at any opportunity, to save his own skin.

 

And save Sara.

 

 

In a loud, sudden moment- all of that changes. Michele’s life as he’d known it for nine months vanishes in an instant.

 

There’s a flash. And a then a loud yell, and several people are screaming incoherently. Michele sees a vague explosion, and people scramble for their bows. Debris flies across the wall and lands in a nearby house’s garden.

 

It’s clear and cold, like a huge chunk of glass.

 

\---

 

“Yuri!” Katuski yells “Now!”

 

The fairy bolts.

 

Otabek doesn’t have time to watch him go- he holds his hands outstretched, positioning them in the same direction as Katuski. Magic courses through his bones in a painful rush, and Otabek tries desperately to control his thoughts. He concentrates the way he’s training to do for a month- he makes his mind an ebb and flow of feeling. Silence when he needs it, and loud with raging snowstorms of emotion at his will. They manifest from the palms of his hands, snow shooting and forming into a solid block of ice in front of him.

 

The glacier grows a lot slower than he and Katsuki planned- it rises, inch-by-inch, all while the Rebel guards yell and fire arrows. When it’s at a respectable height, though, the smoothness of the ice gleams- and the sun is reflected by it, like a blinding mirror.

 

It’s working.

 

The shouts confirm their success. Otabek watches one guard trip, and fall- blinded, there’s a muffled _smack_ as they hit the ground.

 

“Mila!” Katsuki shouts. “Get in there!”

 

“Got it!”

 

Mila flies head-first into battle at Katsuki’s word- barely dodging an arrow as she fast approaches. While she considers it, she positions herself for a drop-kick, right above a group of guards. At closer range, the soldiers can see her over the blinding light of the sun. They scramble to get away as she lets the frantic beating of her wings cease- and she falls, at a rapid speed.

 

But Otabek watches as she’s bounced right back- as her foot is about to make impact with the wall, she’s stopped, as if by some invisible force.

 

She’s thrown. About a meter from the guard- and she would have gone further had she not kicked her wings back into gear just in time. They buzz like a dragonfly’s, and over the din of the battle, she yells.

 

“Yuuri! The barrier is here, too! What do we do?“

 

Katsuki’s face falls briefly, but he scowls- he bunches up his shoulders in command.

 

“Get back, now!” he shouts. “And Chris-“

 

“You don’t have to say a word.” The High Guard interrupts with a purr.

 

It’s his turn to launch forward as Mila falls back. The glacier that Otabek and Katsuki have been forming continues to grow until its height reaches that of the wall. It’s high enough- Christophe forms an idea, and he darts upwards. He runs, his wings aiding his accent, almost horizontal to the ground up the giant block of ice. He speeds up each slippery foothold with an impossible grace- figure blurring, reminiscent of a skater.

 

When he reaches the top, he pauses briefly. Almost as if he’s taking in the height of his surroundings.

 

And then he steadies himself. Reaches his arms outwards, then up, and he moves mysteriously with a light as green as his eyes, undercut with a deep, passionate red.

 

Otabek doesn’t know how he didn’t put two-and-two together. Christophe looked nothing like an ice fairy.

 

What Christophe does on that block of ice is summon a tangle of vines and roses that stem from himself. He’s a fairy of the forest.

 

He sends the ropes from his arms outwards in a flick of his covered wrists. Chrisophe smirks as they’re able to pass through the barrier- the long, green tendrils and blushing blooms reach out and grow over the wall, constricting several guards as they creep and climb.

 

There’s chaos as the humans scatter, dropping their bows and having them crushed under vines, or are trampled. Some foolishly stab at the plant with their weapons- they’re tossed aside like bugs, falling from the wall as they scream.

 

“That’s that~!” Christophe sings behind him. “What now?”

 

Minami suddenly springs to life, rigid and ready for action.

 

“Fire!” they scream.

 

Kastuki yells back, breaking the flow of power into the iceberg. “Wha-Fire?”

 

“FIRE!” Minami screeches. “I’m setting the vines on fire!”

 

And then they dart upwards, indeed, intent to set Christophe’s plants on fire.

 

It’s actually… a good idea. The Rebels would be too busy putting out flames to fight back.

 

Minami’s tiny body flits so fast that they’re almost invisible. But it’s not even necessary- they’re by Christophe’s side in an instant, and with a deep inhale, they hurl a blast of fire over the wall.

 

It spreads quickly- Christophe breaks his connection the vines as soon as flames begin to lick at his elbows, creeping up on him as fast as it spreads along the cobblestone. His vines wither without him to feed off- which makes it a better fuel. Soon, the entire top of this part of the wall is on fire, and the Rebel Guards that are still alive are scrambling to put it out.

 

Otabek pretends to not notice the ones that burn to death.

 

\---

 

Michele doesn’t stay to watch the destruction.

 

He does see it, though. Sees it as an opportunity.

 

He’d heard of a place by the Prince’s old lily garden. A hole in the castle wall that Altin’s child had made, and no-one had bothered to fix. As soon as he was able to take down the anti-fae barrier, he’d head there- Michele’s armour clanks as he walks, his lance abandoned in favour of removing his leather gloves.

 

His own skin is a well-concealed weapon.

 

The guard takes a sharp breath when he hears footsteps from around the corner. Of partially-armoured fur boots, it sounded like- the patter of someone small, though he’s still on alert. He presses himself against the hallway, digging his own shoes into the rug. He has his magic by the ready, and he’s prepared to take the person approaching him by surprise.

 

Then everything goes heart-poundingly silent. Breathing heavily, he takes a risk- cautiously, nervously, he sticks his head out to look and see if the person was gone.

 

He doesn’t expect to be the one ambushed instead.

 

A thin arm wraps itself around Michele’s throat in a lightning-fast movement. It scissors him into a headlock, and blocks off his windpipe with a broken wheeze. His attacker wraps their legs around him, and they hang off Michele’s back in deadly chokehold.

 

The Italian instinctively reaches his hands up to press into their arm- magic dribbling from his fingers, he’s alarmed to find the person doesn’t even flinch.

 

 “Don’t scream.” They hiss menacingly in his ear. “Don’t you _dare_ make a fucking _move_.”

 

Michele digs his nails into the person’s flesh. Still no effect.

 

“Take me to Viktor.” The attacker spits. “And shut down the barrier. Do you know how _?_ ”

 

Michele tears at their arm, desperate to get them off, now. He’s going lightheaded, but the person doesn’t budge an inch.  


“If you don’t answer, I’ll kill you.” They threaten slowly. “Last chance.”

 

The pressure in Michele’s head is immense. He can barely breathe.

 

Reluctantly, he tries his best to nod.

 

He does.

 

“…Good boy.” His attacker breathes.

 

They loosen their grip slightly- enough for Michele to inhale sharply. He doubles over, though their elbow is hooked around his neck, and it props him up. He speaks through a crushed windpipe.

 

“You can’t bust him out. Anti-fairy… around his cell. Not just the castle. He couldn’t leave if he tried.”

 

Michele’s attack tightens their grip again, but only a little. More like a threat, rather than immediate danger.

 

“Why should I believe you?”

 

“I’m his guard.”

 

There’s a tense silence in the room, then. One where the only thing Michele hears is far-off discord of fighting, and his attacker’s steady inhale and exhale, right in his ear.

 

In a moment, the person lower themselves off Michele’s back. They take him down with them, though- their arm still wrapped around his throat possessively.

 

Not that he’s gonna let them get away with that.

 

Rubbing his hands together, Michele reaches back to shove his palms into his attacker’s chest, with a force intended to kill- or at least, severely poison.

  
Except the problem is, he’s been ambushed by a girl.

 

In the moment he hesitates, she grabs both his wrists and twists him around- painfully. Michele screams- a little out of how much it fucking _hurt_ , and a little out of horror.

 

“Nice try.” The girl cruelly sneers.

 

Her golden hair falls around her face like flax, partly covering one eye. It’s no less intimidating, though- the green of it glints down at Michele, with a different sort of venom to his own.

 

She was like a ballerina. Beautiful.

 

Deadly.

 

Michele has had his hands dug into her skin for the past few minutes. And she’s gripping him tightly, to the point where his _own_ wrists are sore- how is she not dead from the contact?

 

_Give it time_ , the guard thinks quickly. _If the poison isn’t working now, give it time. She might just be… resistant._ A half-fae like him, maybe, if appearances were anything to go by.

 

She stares at him, with something regal and _wild_.

 

“If you’re a guard,” the girl spits, through white and sharp, clenched teeth. “then you’ll be able to disable the barriers for me. Around the whole castle _and_ Viktor’s cell.”

 

The fae-girl leans down threateningly, getting close to Michele’s ear again. Despite her being attractive, the experience was wholly uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable. It’s terrifying. This girl is willing to kill him and Michele is _fucking terrified_.

 

“By the way- don’t try any funny shit.” The girl swears. “I might be a human now, but I still don’t care for fucking _cowards_. People like you are the reason _Halflings_ have a bad name.”

 

She waves a pointed finger under his chin, nails stained powder-red and black.

 

 

\---

 

 

Yuri treads the castle warily- even more so, now that he has this human guard in tow. He doubts he’ll have to use the pouch by his side, though he’d already dipped a finger in as a pure precaution.

 

The guard doesn’t dare speak unless spoken to, and Yuri congratulates himself for that. Although, he could just be… biding his time.

 

Yuri is cautious.

 

He gets the feeling that this human will try anything to get rid of him, to escape. And being back in Castle Almaty itself was an experience that Yuri wishes he didn’t have to repeat. The memories that pass him by in every corridor fire off unhelpfully in his brain.

 

The mind-map it provides him is useful, at least. But wandering thoughts- of the day he jumped out of a window into Otabek’s lily garden, or of his 19th birthday where he’d kissed him in a closet and Otabek kissed back- were marginally less so. He wishes he brain would shut the fuck up for five minutes- stop thinking about each random tapestry, each flower, each _this is the place where I did this with Otabek, and he doesn’t remember so when this is over, I can show him, I can-_

 

Yuri already knows where Viktor is. He’d been locked in the catacombs himself, of course.

 

(and that’s related to the 19th birthday incident, but it’s _never the time to think about that, for fucks sake.)_

 

It’s the barriers that Yuri’s concerned about. They were new, since he’d broken his contract with JJ and let fae like Mila and her girlfriend escape. They why he’d ambushed this human guard in the first place- in a hope that he could force him to shut the barriers down, or at _least_ tell him where they were.

 

When Yuri asks, the human answers.

 

“In a room next to Viktor’s cell.” The guard croaks. “that’s the control for the prison barriers.”

 

“Is that _just_ those barriers, though?” Yuri clarifies.

 

The man nods in reply.

 

“How do I shut down the whole city?”

 

“Throne room.” The reluctant man replies.

 

Yuri curses under his breath.

 

Of course.  It makes sense for JJ to be guarding it.

 

 

He’ll go there second. Right now, Viktor is his priority. Viktor is the reason he’s in this mess, on a fucking espionage mission while _Pork Cutlet Bowl_ throws whatever he fucking can at an invisible wall.

 

 

It’s another quick minute before Yuri rounds the corner to the catacomb stairs. Were he to walk a little further, he’d be at the feet of Leroy and his stolen throne.

 

And _her_ frozen body.

 

Though she’s not technically dead, Yuri still gags to think about her.

 

The entrance to the catacombs spirals into the earth- dark and deep, lit only by a single torch on the wall. Considering the guard before they leave, Yuri grabs the lit flame from its position, and takes it. His boots echo off the stone tiles where he treads- as the light retreats behind him, the ground gets damper, and mould grows over the ancient walls.

 

The last time he was here he ran _up_ the spiral, not down.

 

The walk is just as long.

 

\---

 

Viktor’s head shoots up, and he sings when light approaches.

 

“Ah, Crispino!” He calls, in an obnoxious, fake Italian accent. “Or Nekola? I forget which one of you is which.”

 

He waves a hand, giggling falsely. “Anyway! Shouldn’t you be elsewhere this time of d-“  
  


And then, his chest… seizes.

 

It isn’t a guard who’s come to see him.

 

“Viktor.”

 

The King is on his feet. He presses his hands to the bars- desperate. Suddenly _desperate_.

 

_Kotenok_.

 

“There’s a barrier. I can’t get out. It stops anyone with fae blood from-“

 

The fairy approaches. Viktor is silenced when _Kotenok_ reaches their hand out for his, overlapping.

 

It passes right through the magic barrier.

 

Viktor’s ice-blue eyes go wide, and he chokes.

 

“…what-“ he whispers, around the thick lump in his throat. “what happened? What happened?!”

 

Viktor reaches out for them. He clasps both hand over the Kitten’s- it’s been so long- and he squeezes, desperate, desperate.

 

_Kotenok_ looks away.

 

Viktor breathes.

 

“...Your wings, then?” he croaks.

 

“Gone.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s a long fucking story.” _Kotenok_ snorts.

 

 

_Why are they laughing?_

_“Kotenok”_ Viktor calls urgently. “The barrier around my cell, you need to-“

 

“-Shut it down, I know.” They finish, finally pulling away from Viktor. The magic of the barrier ripples visibly around their skin as they withdraw. Straightening, they rise to their full height, and like a tiger staring down their prey-

 

The kitten looks Viktor in the eye.

 

No other fairy would _ever_ dare do that.

 

“…It’s Yuri, by the way.” They say, defiantly.

 

Something in Viktor alights.

 

“…Yuuri?” he tests.

 

“No- _Yuri_.” The fairy urges. “I was named.”

 

They puff out their chest- green gaze glinting dangerously, and rolling their shoulders, they pull out a hair-tie to secure their golden locks. Like they mean business.

 

And then they say, with a dangerous growl- “You better respect it.”

 

It’s all too much for Viktor to take in.

 

Yuri. _Yuuri_.

 

Two Yuris. He has _two_ Yuris in his family. If Viktor ever has a child, should he make it a third? They’d be a whole squadron of Yuris, of three different ages. Now _that_ would confuse people.

 

_Yuri. Yuri._

_Yuuri._

 

Despite himself, and the dire situation, Viktor laughs out loud. Yuri stares at him oddly- _Yuri_ , he’s so proud of them- him? Not her. But he’d have to ask. Gods, he’d _get_ to ask!

 

It’s been so long. He missed them. He missed so much about them. He missed Yuuri _and_ Yuri. And Viktor continues to babble in his head, even as Yuri shuffles away to another room to finally disable the cell barrier.

 

Gods.

 

It’s finally over. And there’s so much he _missed_. So much Viktor wants to say. To both his Yuris.

 

 

Oh, Gods.

 

Viktor laughs, and he’s crying.

 

 

\---

 

 

“He’s out!”

 

Otabek stutters for a moment at the voice, dodging an arrow.

 

He dashes for the bushes, throwing Katsuki a look- the man glances back, worried, but understanding.

 

_Yuri, Yuri, Yuri._

 

“Yuri!” Otbaek shouts, pressing a hand to his ear.

 

The line of the spell is crackly, but it gets the message across. Yuri shouts over it, his voice hoarse- though that might have just been the line.

 

“Throne room, main barrier.” He says, voice cracking. “I’m- ugh- I’m going to shut it down.”

 

Otabek clenches. “But JJ-“

 

“He’s in there. I’ll take him out.”

 

“Don’t kill him.”

 

“I won’t. Viktor can freeze-“

 

He stops. And suddenly, Otabek hears him grunt with a sharp pain.

 

_Yuri_ -!

 

“Motherfuck-“

 

“Are you ok-!”  


“S….sorry.” the fairy wheezes from the other end. Otabek can’t see him. It’s torture. “Hostage elbowed me… escaped. Fucking _dammit_.”

 

On his end, Otabek’s face drains of colour.

 

“Why did you have a hostage?!” he yells.

 

“I’m going for the barrier now.”

 

“-Yuri, answer me!”

 

“B-beka.”

 

He’s breathing heavily- Otabek can hear that much. And he’s in pain. He shouldn’t be in pain. _Yuri shouldn’t be in pain. He shouldn-_

 

Otabek doesn’t have a clue what’s happening, but needs to get into the castle. Now. He needs to go help Yuri.

 

He’s not thinking clearly. He shuts off the connection.

 

 

“Katsuki!” he screams.

 

The King whips his head around to face him-  whips it back just in time to throw up a shield of ice to block any further arrows, and he yells.

 

“What’s wrong? Is Yuri ok? Did he get Viktor?!”

 

“He got Viktor!” Otabek shouts back. “But something’s wrong- Yuri’s injured!”

 

An arrow flies Katsuki’s way- he flinches, though it lands harmlessly by his side.

 

“T-there’s nothing you can do!” Katsuki commands, voice trembling under pressure “Until the barrier’s down, you’re trapped outside! You can’t get in.”

 

That’s not a comforting thought.

 

“Stay here!”

 

Otabek makes a decision.

 

He runs from his place in the bushes, bolting across the battlefield as Katsuki hopelessly screams after him. He’s not coming back without Yuri.

 

_A lily garden, right? And a hole in the wall._

 

Otabek knows the rest of the way there. Among the memories he has of this Castle, he sorts them into a map. A map that points him back to his earliest nightmare- the throne room.

 

It points him back to where it all began.

 

It points him back to Yuri.

 

_Yuri, Yuri, Yuri._

\----

 

 

It’s funny.

 

Legend goes that a girl was lonely. Her father and mother had died, but she made a friend in a fairy. They knew each other for years, and he raised her like his own daughter, and loved her unconditionally.

 

And then, on a new spring’s day, the girl finally asked for the fairy’s name.

 

Of course, he said he didn’t have one. So the girl named him, and they were a part of each other’s lives until they died.

 

From that, a spell was created.

 

A fairy who receive a name from a human will be permanently bound to that human. And, if the fairy chooses to accept this commitment, they will have accepted that they are no greater than humanity.

 

In other words, it was like a contract. But without the threat of pain if you broke it, because it was literally impossible to break. Because there were no ‘sides’. Because it was a relationship with no imbalances of power.

 

When you dedicate your life to that contract, both your hearts fuse as one. Human becomes fae, and fae becomes human. Two people of two different species become a single, working entity.

 

But, of course, there’s a catch.

 

Former King Yakov was named by his ex-wife. And even though they ended up apart, when she died, he chose to go with her. Because, once the human who named you is gone, you’re still bound to them eternally.

 

You become half a soul, always searching for something you can never get back.

 

Yuri wonders if that’s why Grandpa never named him. Because he knew he was dying. Because he knew Yuri didn’t understand death.

 

At that, the fairy smiles grimly.

 

 

He doesn’t know what the fuck that guard did to him, but it fucking _hurts_.

 

 

He knows that Viktor is staring at him expectantly, from across the room. The two of them burst into the court, and surprisingly, Leroy was nowhere to be found.

 

They’d gotten to work quickly, then. Or rather, Viktor got to work, because Yuri had needed a break to catch his breath.

 

It’s more than that now, though. He’s injured.

 

He’s dying.

 

…Fuck.

 

He’s dying.

 

“Found it!” Viktor calls from across the room. “I think I can disable it, too.”

 

Yuri bangs his chest, dislodging the cough that threatens to spill. His insides are gummed up with _something_ , and it’s constricting him.

 

“Great! You do that.” He calls, giving the King a thumbs up. He can’t muster the enthusiasm to swear.

 

A few moments later, there’s a cheer of success. Yuri barely hears it. He registers it, but he can barely hear it.

 

_Otabek. Otabek-_

“Otabek.” Yuri wheezes, pressing a weak hand to his ear. “Otabek, the barrier’s down. You’re in.”

 

“Yura-!”

 

Yuri splutters.

 

Oh.

 

“Yura?”

 

Yeah.

 

He’s dying.

 

What the _fuck_ did that fucking guard _do_?

 

It’s the violet eyes, the violet eyes. Oh god.

 

That was Michele Crispino, wasn’t? He was poisoned. Yuri stares at the blood in his hands with horror.

 

 Viktor stares, too- he shouts, and Yuri feels woozy.

 

He should have known. It’d been a year, but he should have known better than to touch one of the Crispino twins. _Poison magic, you idiot. You fucking idiot. You’re dying because you chose the wrong guy to take hostage._

 

There’s a shooting, stinging pain in Yuri’s chest- a pain that feels like it’s ripping through him, slowly, and then all at once. A pain so bad he coughs up more of blood blocking his insides- and falls to his knees for it. He fights the urge to rip off his shirt, if only because he needs his hands to keep him steady.

 

He looks down at his forearm.

 

It’s stinging, too, and it’s blossoming a sickly, violet-purple.

 

The same colour as those _fucking twin’s eyes._

 

Viktor is yelling, now. There’s footsteps somewhere, a clanking of metal. Yuri feels, hears, sees none of it- the poison creeps up his arm, like magic, but worse. Infinitely _fucking_ _worse_.

 

 

 It hurts. _It hurts, it hurts, Beka where are you-_

This is what he was afraid of. He doesn’t want to go like this. He doesn’t want to hurt Otabek by dying.

 

If he were still fae, the poison wouldn’t have killed him. But then again, if he were still fae, Otabek wouldn’t be alive. Does he really have any regrets?

 

Yuri’s eyes threaten to slip close. He looks up one last time.

 

Looks up to see Viktor shouting, screaming, _accusing_ someone with a finger and the bright light of ice magic on the ready. Someone who stands back defensively- a figure in a cape and a false crown.

 

Jean-Jacques- _fucking_ -Leroy.

 

Not Otabek.

 

But honestly?

 

As he drifts away, Yuri can't bring himself to care.

 

He hears Otabek call over the connection.

 

_Yuri, Yuri, Yuri._

 

Just his name.

 

 

It's a good name.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry
> 
> obvs this isnt the ending but. lmao. been foreshadowing this for ages.
> 
> check the tags before u hate me pls. i swear im not evil


	16. Otabek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh.
> 
> it does get a little graphic here for a bit. if you're phobic of the idea of freezing/choking to death, maybe skip until halfway through.

 

Otabek’s feet move a lot faster for every yell that he hears- snippets of conversation growing louder and louder as he approaches the throne room.

 

“I didn’t touch him, I swear- I’m not a mage, I don’t have a contract!”

 

“Did you order someone to do this?!”  


“No! I didn’t even know he was here! I’m not here to stop you, Your Highness, I just want to talk! I wanna say sorry for-“

 

The blood in Otabek’s ears begins to pound.

 

He makes it to the throne room. He bursts in like there’s no tomorrow if he’s not inside- and maybe there won’t be. Because once he gets there, there’s a reality he has to face. Once he’s inside, he’s greeted by a harrowing, unfortunately familiar sight.

 

One: His sister. Frozen as a statue, eternally. A deed done long ago, but...

 

Two: The culprit of it. Standing with his back hunched and arms raised and eyes fearful of _something_ , of someone. Jean-Jaques Leroy.

 

Three: The King of Fairies, Viktor. With his golden wings stretched to their full, majestic height, and his eyes filled with pure, icy fury. Like a blizzard waiting to thrust into full turmoil.

 

And Four-

 

Yuri.

 

He’s not dead.

 

Thank god he’s not dead.

 

But he will be.

 

He’s out cold, purple blooming all over his body, and he convulses in his unconscious state. The _room_ is cold, Otabek’s blood is cold- frost prickles every nerve he has, and in a surge of rising fury, he pins his gaze to Leroy.

 

He doesn’t even blink.

 

“You-!“ Otabek shouts. His voice booms, and it’s foreign in his own dry throat.

 

Leroy scrambles to say something desperately- but Otabek doesn’t hear it. Didn’t want to hear it. In an instant, the Prince bolts across the room.

 

And then, the Usurper King’s neck is in his grip. The man chokes. A gravelly sound pouring from his lips- and Otabek pushes them both backwards, until Leroy’s back hits the throne and Otabek is choking him into the plush, red cushions of his stolen seat of power.

 

“I didn’t hurt him!” Leroy wheezes, desperate.

 

“Maybe.” Otabek seethes. “But you’ve hurt him before. You’ve hurt a lot of people.”  


“I didn’t mean to-!”

 

“Shut it-!“

 

“Hey!”

 

Viktor yells.

 

He hasn’t moved, and his voice- commanding and regal- echoes across the shiny tiles in the room. The Fairy King points his hand out, glowing with Ice magic, at both Otabek and JJ. Threatening- though less violent than his shouting indicated. He’s more confused than anything.

 

“Who are you?” he asks, tilting his chin to Otabek.

 

The Prince stutters, forgetting his place. Though he quickly remembers, and he growls- deep in his throat- at the realization.

 

“I’m the rightful heir to this throne.” He says lowly.

 

The Fairy King raises a brow, but he isn’t wholly impressed. He speaks with caution, like he doesn’t truly believe him.

 

“ _Really_?” he asks Otabek flippantly. “I was _sure_ that the Altins were wiped out a year ago, by your good friend JJ.”

 

“Leroy is _not_ my friend.” Otabek spits, through heavily gritted teeth. “He’s the man who killed me and failed.”

 

The Prince spares a venomous glance for Leroy, then. The Usurper King’s eyes have gone wide. _His killer_ realizing that he didn’t kill him at all, when he’d meant to.

 

 _Good_ , Otabek thinks viciously. _Let him be terrified_.

 

 _Let him hurt_.

 

He deserves every inch of it- repayment for what he’d done to him, his sister, and to Yuri. To his people. To Almaty.

 

Viktor still seems suspicious, though. And Otabek doesn’t blame him. Though more for his own satisfaction than anything, the fallen Prince relays what had come to be.

 

He wants JJ to hear every detail of how his plans went wrong.

 

“I escaped, the night that Leroy took power.” Otabek says evenly. He’s glad Katsuki showed him his memories, now, if they could be used as weapons against the Usurper King. “I was looking for a fairy- my birth mother, to protect me. But Leroy and his fairy went after me. He forced them to kill me. That… that fairy was Yuri.“

 

Viktor, suddenly, froze.

 

“…How do you know his name?” he asks. His voice is smooth with tension, crackling and slippery with frost.

 

“Yuri saved my life.” Otabek replies, without hesitation. He’s not scared of Viktor. Not when he’s got something to prove.

 

“I named him, Your Highness. Yuri gave up his wings for me.”

 

The Prince hears Leroy make a spit-filled noise in his constricted throat- one of clear horror, of regret. _Good_ , Otabek thinks again, when he hears it. _Good. Suffer._

He’s being cruel, but he’s not about to stop.

 

The Fairy King’s wings droop a little at his back, and he drops his arm reluctantly.

 

“You…” he breathes.

 

The magic at his fingers fizzles out, though it’s dormant power. Ready to be released should he need it. But... it doesn’t look like Viktor _wants_ to, anymore.

 

He says- _he whispers_ to Otabek, his ice-blue eyes filling with something incorrigible, something more akin to his husband’s anxious gaze. Something that didn’t fit in with the rest of the ice-cold king, and it deeply unsettled Otabek in the sense that it was an emotion he should have never seen on his face.

 

“…Don’t kill JJ.”  Viktor says.

 

The Prince inhales, sharply.

 

Hetightens his grip on Leroy, too, like an automatic act of defiance. Viktor notices the tension- the apprehension- and he speaks again, voice small and pleading.

 

“If you care about Yuri, don’t do it.” He repeats, urging quietly.

 

Conversely, Otabek squeezes until Leroy begins to choke.

 

“I’d argue the opposite. Yuri _very much_ wanted me to do this.” Otabek threatens.

 

Viktor seems to consider this with a frown, and he asks-

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Otabek Altin.” The Prince replies.

 

“Your age?”

 

“Nineteen.” He says surely.

 

“Don’t do it, Otabek.” Viktor repeats, for a third time.

 

The Fairy King, for all his height, looks absolutely tiny. Looks very, very tired, in a way that an ageless being with soft, snowy skin and crystal eyes can look bone-dead and lifeless. Now that his rage is gone- his initial fear and hesitation, and resentment has disappeared- he’s nothing more than a wintery shell. He speaks, though his voice is close to broken.

 

“Revenge won’t help you.” He says, and he says it from deep within his heart. Like he’s speaking from experience.

 

But he’s wrong.

 

Revenge is all that Otabek wants.

 

With a growl and the flick of his free wrist, an icicle forms in the Prince’s palm. He snarls- he presses it once again into Leroy’s neck, and yelping, the man finds himself face-to-face with the sharp end of Otabek’s ice.

 

He points the tip of the icicle just above the Usurper King’s ribcage. He intends to stab him in the heart, if he can steady his hand and his breathing and calm the fire in his eyes, the blizzard in his wavering breaths.

 

“Otabek- are you listening to me?!” Viktor shouts, sounding panicked “You can’t-“”

 

“I don’t _have_ to listen to you!” Otabek interrupts. He bites back his breath. “This is _my_ choice. This is _my_ future alone, do you understand?!”

 

And that statement echoes, loud. Louder.

 

Otabek growls. Spits. And he sees Leroy’s terrified face, and he’s shaking, when the man begins to turn blue.

 

_He doesn’t sound like himself._

 

To his own ears, Otabek’s voice was that of a stranger. And when he thought about, _really_ thought about it, he sounded a lot like…

 

Like Yuri. Zero respect for authority. Brash, aggressive, angry at everything for all that it’d taken from him- those were the things that _Yuri_ was supposed to be. Not Otabek. Never Otabek.

 

“Your Highness, you need to stop.” Viktor tries to say. The use of title is a sign of trust, and it’s one Otabek appreciates. But it also hurts in another way, because it’s like The Fairy King had accepted the statement previous. That Otabek had taken sole responsibility for this, and placed his kingdom’s fate on the end of a knife made of ice. _His alone._

 

He already _felt_ so alone.

 

“I c-can’t” Otabek pathetically chokes.

 

“…Your Highness.”

 

His breath hitches, and Otabek pauses- but he doesn’t stop. He won’t. Tears begin to run down his face, and they drip. They fall off his nose, and they turn to ice when they hit Leroy’s face. The Prince is still holding his icicle at the ready, but his bones crackle with magic for the whole time he holds him. Leroy doesn’t writhe. He makes a tiny, pathetic-sounding whimper, but that’s it. No other motions of protest.

 

It’s almost like he’s…

 

…given up. He’s accepted that, one way or another, today is the day he dies. He wants to be punished.

 

Otabek could never think like that.

 

The Prince looks to Viktor, then- he’s not sure why. Reassurance, maybe, though he finds none in his words, or the false smile on the Fairy King’s face.

 

He says- “You named Yuri. So you were close, right?”

 

 _Were_.

 

Like a knife to the gut.

 

Words fall out of Otabek’s mouth, all garbled and wet. His fist tightens over Leroy’s windpipe, and all sounds- any cries, any struggles for breath- from the Usurper King stops.

 

“Let go of him, please.” Viktor begs.

 

“No.”

 

“Otabek-“ The Fairy King warns. “Let him go.”

 

“W-who? Him-“ Otabek spits, jerking his head towards Leroy “Or Yuri?”

 

Viktor still hasn’t moved.  He hasn’t bothered to check on Yuri.

 

He’d just accepted his death then and there, and Otabek can’t fathom it. He could’ve run to a healer by now, and Otabek wants to _scream_ that at him, but he doesn’t. He can’t, for some reason, and in his head he’s a turmoil of grief, of frustration- and then, he looks over to her.

 

His sister. They lock eyes. Her dead, stone-like eyes. And it’s at that- the silent urging of a girl that time froze, and forgot- that everything ends.

 

Leroy makes an odd noise from his chest.  


It’s enough to get Otabek’s attention. The Usurper King looks up at the Prince, and his mouth is open wide open in a painful gasp for air. He screams in agony- ear piercing and horrible- and then slowly, _slowly_ , Otabek pans his gaze down to his neck.

 

And his own mouth falls open in horror. Because-

 

Because there’s frost. Creeping up Leroy’s throat, spreading outwards from Otabek’s palm where it connects with his flesh. Webbing, as magic is to do, hot-white and freezing his flesh from the inside-out.

 

And yet, Otabek still can’t let go.

 

Leroy gasps again, and _now_ he struggles. He kicks his legs, and without even thinking, Otabek just… holds him there. Not even maliciously. Empty of ill intent.

 

“C-cold.” Leroy chokes. “It’s c-cold”

 

And it _is_ cold. So very cold. Colder than ice. Colder than Otabek’s blood, and the act he’s committing it in. There’s a fine layer of snow coating the floor, but the Prince doesn’t have the time to appreciate that because his eyes are locked with that of Leroy’s, and it _s terrible. It’s horrible, its terrible_ , and _he’s_ the one doing it.

 

It’s too late now.

 

Otabek can’t stop. Can’t free his grip, no matter how he tries. Viktor tried to warn him that his grief and anger was getting the better of him, and he refused to listen. He was impulsive, and dumb. Like he had been this entire battle, this afternoon.

 

Leroy tries to say something, but the words are lost to a final agonized groan. With his eyes bulging, and face pale for lack of air, the false King lifts a finger. And he points, in his definitive action. He points, and his eyes roll back into his head, and they’re frozen there.

 

 _He’s_ frozen there. For the rest of Otabek’s lifetime. With a hand outstretched and his blank eyes dull with resignation, Jean-Jaques Leroy is now… a statue.

 

A remorseful statue. A shell of a man who strove to avenge the one he loved, and ended up on a dark path that caused so much suffering- to himself, and to others.

 

And just like that, everything is over.

 

…Quietly, Otabek tries to blinks back tears.

 

His chest constricts. He tries to process this- he really does. He tells himself he’ll hold a funeral. Even if people don’t think that Leroy deserved one.

 

He’ll hold a service for the guards who died on the wall, too, by his hand and Christophe and Mila and Minami and Katsuki’s. Because death was never something that Otabek was good with, and he’s glad that Leroy, at least, isn’t actually dead. But it still hurts- because in the same way, he’s gone, forever.

 

He’d never- and Otabek remembers this now- he’d never had friends as a child. He never had nice things. So when he lost what he _did_ have, he…

 

“…JJ.” Otabek says.

 

He slips his hand free from the frozen man’s throat. And of course, he doesn’t reply. No one does. The castle is as lifeless as the bodies occupying it- Otabek included. His veins are cold, and his scratched, bloodied skin carries burns and missed dodges and the echoes of what he had done.

 

“I knew you, once.” The Prince murmurs. “You were the son of a human ambassador for the old King. My father… really didn’t like you.”

 

Otabek’s memories of his father are especially fuzzy. A nagging feeling tells him that’s a good thing.

 

“I don’t think we were ever friends.” He says, to Leroy’s petrified skin. “But, I’m... sorry. You deserved this, in the end.”

 

The Prince looks, for the last time, at JJ’s peaceful eyes. He looks, and he wishes that he could take them as a sign that everything was going to be ok.

 

Things don’t ever work like that, though.

 

\---

 

And in the calm after the storm, the flat after the crescendo, the throne room is quiet. And maybe that’s an overused descriptor, but it really _is_ , in the most pure sense. There is literally no sound, not even in the background. Like with all the death today, the world around Otabek died with it.

 

That’s the true embodiment of Winter, really. It’s is like that, the curse of ice. It’s cold. It sweeps through towns and lives as a force of beautiful destruction- and it never says a word about it. Otabek knows how to tell an Ice Fairy, now, from the others- they’re stoic in one way or another, never reaching out for others. Though they long for the contact, they’re too scared of hurting people to let themselves love. Or too scared of their world taking their love away to chance it.

 

But they’re resilient. And though they don’t speak, they never give up.

 

Yuri is like that. A true embodiment of winter, of ice, of sheer determination and a stubbornness inherent. Yuri always gets his way.

 

So when Otabek hears his voice- as weak as it is- it’s a relief more than a surprise.

 

Yuri is still Yuri, even when he’s hurt and dying.

 

Wet with the blood he’s coughing up, and struggling through his breaths, Yuri pulls himself up, gradually- as much as he can. His head tilts to the side, and he rests his cheek over the rapidly thawing floor. He can’t lift it- the boy lies flat on his stomach, body crumpled and compressed.

 

As Otabek runs towards him, he notes- Viktor is gone. He disappeared a while ago, it seems, and Otabek never noticed.

 

He frowns.

 

Yuri is wracked with a chest-rending, painful cough- and he hisses through the sharpness as he spits up more of his insides over the floor. The blood is a mix of red-purple, and it’s disgusting.

 

“I-I’m not supposed to bleed.” He whispers, throat hoarse with effort and scorn.

 

And maybe it’s the shock. But for some reason, as Otabek bends down to meet the boy, he laughs at the unusual choice of statement, the obvious observation. He reaches a hand out to cup Yuri’s face- he hesitates when he sees the web of spreading purple, like blight, crawl across Yuri’s ruby-red cheeks.

 

In the end, Otabek ignores it.

 

He slides his worn, dirtied knuckles over the boy’s face, and Yuri lifts his own hand to hold his, anchoring him there. He vaguely trembles with the effort.

 

“You’ve said that before.” Otabek warbles. “Fairies don’t bleed, right?”

 

It takes a moment to register, but Yuri chuckles when it does. There’s no bells anymore, and his laugh is humourless. Not dry, though. It’s moistened by the blood on his lips, and the way he licks them before speaking, before needing a deep breath in to talk.

 

“Yeah. I said that.” Yuri replies. “But ‘m not a fairy anymore, so...”

 

 _Clearly_ , Otabek thinks, and he laughs again. If laughing and crying were the same thing.

 

“What happened?” the Prince whispers to him.

 

Yuri coughs. “N-not JJ. Fuck, dude. You froze him. I’d say stone cold, but. H-haha.” The boy snorts weakly.

 

“At least I didn’t stab him.” Otabek remarks.

 

“T-true.” Yuri sighs- it’s cut off by a groan of pain, and a scrunching of his eyebrows in a wave of nausea and agony.

 

“He’s still alive like that, y-you know.” Yuri hisses out. “He just can’t open his fucking _mouth_. Ha!”

 

Yuri tries to laugh, then, too. Otabek’s horrified when he’s interrupted by a fit of barking, blood-rending coughs.

 

In panic, he scoops Yuri up. Was the purple contagious? Otabek hopes not, but apparently it isn’t, because Yuri rests in his arms without problems. The boy whimpers as Otabek stands, though the Prince does his best not to jostle him. With as smooth steps as he can, he runs- out of the dead throne room and through abandoned hallways, the remnants of a battlefield, rebellion and mutiny.

 

Otabek suddenly has the sense that there’s no time for this. And maybe his panic is unwarranted- but he doesn’t have _time_ to think about anything but Yuri. He runs, and he keeps running.

  
The halls echo with his footsteps and the shadows blur past, but the only thing he’s seeing is Yuri’s eyes. Yuri is far too light. He’s too fragile in Otabek’s arms. He shouldn’t _feel_ this fragile. Yuri should be thickened, sharp glass, and the hardy eyes of a soldier. He shouldn’t _ever_ be reduced to a limp, useless doll like he is now.

 

His limbs drape helplessly over Otabek’s body, and his golden hair falls over his face- free from the tie he had it up in, and it leaves Otabek an excuse to card his fingers through his bangs, to wipe the gossamer strands away from his glittering green eyes, far-off and wracked with suffering.

 

The boy leans his head into Otabek’s chest. It’s all he can do, and his eyes are half closed when he speaks.

 

“Where are we going, Beka?” he asks.

 

“Home.” Otabek replies. “We’re done here.”

 

“ _I’m_ done here.” Yuri murmurs half-heartedly.

 

Otabek gives a him a steely glare.

 

“Don’t say that.” he hisses, and the boy grimaces at his tone.

 

“I’m… poisoned, Otabek. Crispino fucking _elbowed_ me…” he inhales, momentarily gathering himself through the pain before he continues. “…straight in the ribs. In the h-heart. He- I didn’t… I fucked up real bad.” Yuri whispers. His chest heaves with the effort of having so much to say.

 

“You didn’t fuck up, Yura” Otabek tries to say. He tears his gaze away from Yuri’s face with scrunched-up eyes, and a lump in his throat.

 

“Talk about something else.”

 

“Otabek-“

 

“Please. Anything. Ten facts about yourself.” The Prince blurts, and he’s trying not to tear up. He’s not even thinking. He’s not listening, really. He’s just running- and yet he hangs off of every word, every weak little snort that Yuri produces when he thinks of something, and relays it.

 

There are no bells between them, but that’s ok. He’s got Yuri, and though he’s in pain, he’s happy. He’s making Otabek happy, even as it hurts with every frantic step through the winding castle halls.

 

“Do you know… how old I am?” Yuri says at one point, after they’ve passed a lion-carved archway that certainly led outdoors.

 

“No.” Otabek replies, automatically.

 

“Six-hundred and sixty-eight.” Yuri announces proudly. He wheezes for his efforts, though he beams. “I’m older than Viktor.”

 

Otabek’s heart skips a beat, then. His throat catches in his shock, though he keeps his gaze forward. He does spare a quick glance for Yuri, though- like he has been this whole time, despite himself- and he sees the boy wearing a weak, self-satisfied smirk.

 

“…You’re kidding, right?” Otabek says. “You can’t be older than Viktor. You’re practically his _son_.”

 

Yuri replies- “Nope. I am. I’m practically... an old man. Wish I could’ve lived another year.”

 

“Don’t say that” Otabek responds initially. And then-

 

“…Yuri, seriously?!”

 

The boy barks. Coughs, and then laughs again. Otabek really isn’t amused.

 

“You’re _dying,_ and you make a 69 joke?”

 

“You admitted it.” Yuri points out.

 

“…What?”

 

“You admitted that ’m dying.” Yuri smiles.

 

Otabek can’t breathe.

 

“I take it back, then.” He whispers.  


He doesn’t notice that he’s stopped walking. He also doesn’t notice where they’d stopped. Surprisingly lucid, Yuri does, though- he tears his gaze away from Otabek’s face, and looks around.

 

“…Do you remember?” he says vaguely, all of a sudden.

 

Otabek blinks. “Remember what?” he asks.

 

“This garden.” Yuri says. “….it was your favourite garden. We met here.”

 

“…Oh.”

 

Otabek looks around. And he _does_ remember.

 

It’s a garden filled with angelic, white, clean-sheet lilies. A tiny sort of space, but it’s private and peaceful, even after the battle’s turmoil. Towards the back, though, there’s a still-growing, newly planted oak tree. Yuri points to it, and he says- “Put me down there”

 

He even adds a “Please”.

 

Otabek can’t deny him, so he does. He stalks through the lilies, overgrown for the years that he’d been forced to leave them. As he does, Yuri’s limp, pale hand- his overworked, spindly fingers- find Otabeks, and they hold each other. They hold each other in any way that they can.

 

And when Otabek sets the Yuri down by the oak’s new roots, he has eyes only for him. The flowers loom around them, but they shadow the moment like clouds. White clouds; non-threatening, and more like coverage than anything sinister. After all, this was a private moment. Yuri and Otabek, together, were a special, sacred thing.

 

Otabek really loves that.

 

He loves Yuri’s face. Yuri’s eyes, Yuri’s mouth, his foul, direct language, the blooming violet of his exposed collarbone that he’d always been drawn to, though Otabek loves all of him and he _wishes_ he could-

 

“I love your eyes.” Otabek blurts, out of nowhere. It’s said too softly, too genuinely for him to take it back. Which is fine- because instead of laughing or teasing like he always would, Yuri squeezes the Prince’s hand.

 

At least, he tries to.

 

“…I love _you_.” Yuri whispers. “Just you.”

 

And then… and then, it comes. It comes all at once.

 

Otabek _wails_.

 

Yuri reaches his hand up, brushing porcelain fingers over Otabek’s rough cheeks and the gross, rolling hiccups in his throat. This wouldn’t be the first time that Yuri’s had to comfort him through tears, but it’s definitely- easily- the worst. Tears make tracks in the dirt on Otabek’s face, and oh- what the Prince wouldn’t give for this to never be the last time he feels Yuri wipe them away.

 

“Why are you ok with this?” Otabek chokes, cries. _Everything_. “You’re so calm, and you’re-“

 

“It’s… ok.” Yuri says reassuringly, and he _smiles._ He needs to stop doing that because he’s _beautiful_ when he smiles.

 

“I… I had this coming.”

 

“ _Yura_ -“

 

“Don’t- don’t be sad.” Yuri says, suddenly. Urgently. He grips Otabek like his life depends on it, and it’s an ironic fucking expression now, isn’t it?

 

“ _Please_ , Beka.” Yuri bites his lip. “Don’t cry for me.”

 

Otabek ignores him. He cries, regardless.

 

“I just… want to see you be happy.” Yuri murmurs.

 

“I’m happy when I’m _with_ you!” Otabek yells. “When you’re not _giving up_ on me!”

 

“Beka-“

 

“Don’t ever leave me!” Otabek shouts, and he shudders. Everything is _wrong_. It’s all going so, so _wrong_. Yuri was his world, and he’s not losing everything. Not again.

 

Yuri’s eyes scrunch up, and he’s not smiling, anymore. Otabek almost feels bad for wishing he’d stop, because heartbreak is a terrible look on him- somehow worse than a smile through the pain, the purple agony that crawled through him in tendrils. But what the _fuck_ is Yuri trying to do, comforting Otabek through his own death? What’s the point in just _accepting_ it, like Viktor had- like Viktor told him he should?

 

“You can’t just give up.” Otabek whispers. He doesn’t _want_ Yuri to give up. He didn’t come this far for either of them to give up, and Yuri’s lower lip all but trembles as he whispers wetly.

 

“…Do I really have a choice?”

 

Otabek swallows.

 

He clasps his hand further up the boy’s arm. His other hand grips tight behind Yuri’s head, the Prince’s fingers buried in his hair.

 

He was still so beautiful. It wasn’t _fair_.

 

Otabek’s sobs are a lump in his throat and a murmur in his chest- but the Prince is still desperate to get his message across to him.

 

“ _Yes_.” He hiccups silently. “ _Stay with me_ , Yura. _Please_. Please… I thought that’s what you wanted.”

 

The prince’s thumb dutifully traces Yuri’s mouth. It’s to wipe off the blood that smears his cheeks- the red sticks out against the purple webbing of his skin, and Otabek’s breathing is audible as he cleans.

 

Yuri’s breath is, too. They mingle in a ragged, broken symphony.

 

Yuri peers up at him. And by the sad smile on his lips, and the look in his eye, he’s amused with Otabek. _Amused_ , _of all things_ …

 

“You’re such a fucking sap.” he whispers. A beat, and in his melancholy green eyes, tears form. They roll like crystal down Yuri’s cheek.

 

“You romantic _asshole_.” He adds, for good measure.

 

Yuri’s smile is back.

 

Wobbly, but it’s there. Otabek doesn’t mind it- Yuri’s teasing is quiet, and for a final time, maybe, they laugh. Together.

 

The Prince knocks his forehead against Yuri’s, and Yuri presses up into the connection the best he can. It’s weak though. It’s weak, like his heartbeat, like his breath against Otabek’s lips as it brushes his, ever teasing.

 

Otabek notices it.

 

“You’re the worst.” The Prince whispers. “You know that?”

 

“You, too.” Yuri jokes, his voice barely a hum in the garden of lilies. “…But you love me.”

 

Otabek does. Very much.

 

He finally, painfully, bridges the space between them. And maybe it’s a little awkward, but Otabek’s first kiss with Yuri, he prays, won’t have to be his last.

 

It’s a sweet-sound and flowers.

 

The delicate, cracked flesh of their lips melding. And it’s neither poetic nor dirty and rough, but it’s something. It’s something.

 

They kiss, and that’s it.

 

Yuri is the one to break away.

 

Otabek follows him as he lays back- the boy’s eyes remain closed, tears glinting in the fading light over his paling skin. Yuri’s hand slips from Otabek’s face, to his neck. And then his shoulder, and down to the cloak that Otabek doesn’t want anymore, that Yuri should be wearing, but isn’t.

 

So when Otabek leans back from him, it’s only to remove it. The gross green-brown of the fabric was never comfortable, and yet, Yuri never took it off.

 

He’ll never have to.

 

The Prince drapes the garment over the boy’s shoulder, tucking his hair over the cape and settling it, so it isn’t bunched in. It’s an absolutely useless gesture, but it comforts him, somewhat.

 

Just like another kiss, pressed into Yuri’s lukewarm lips, is pointless.

 

But he does it anyway.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see i was gonna post this for otayuri week day one (first time- kiss) but i figured that would be really fucking mean
> 
> fun fact- this chapter was nearly 4,669 words. i was so close. i gotta capitalize on the joke. and this is cliche as hell but guess who loves cliches in fanfic? me. this genre of writing is for cheesy romance shit and im milking it wherever i can.
> 
> I also wanna emphasize that no one is actually dead and theres a happy ending and all that jazz. also, im in the process of re-writing all the chapters and totally re-did ch 1 and 2 yesterday!! Go re-read them with fresh eyes, if you want.
> 
> last thing- you'll notice this is a series now. yeah boys. i have no self control and you're all going to profit and/or suffer from it. eventually. when this is done.
> 
> thanks for reading guys *finger guns emoji*


	17. Finale

 

It wasn’t like she _hadn’t_ known everything immediately. Future sight- the Queen had predicted the attack on her kingdom weeks before it had come to be, and though she wasn’t sure on the details of it- the presence of King Yakov’s oldest charge, or the method in which Jean-Jaques was killed- the end result was always the same, in her visions.

 

 _Why_ Jean-Jaques had never come to quiz her on it, she doesn’t know. That was supposed to have been her purpose here, after all. To feed the boy who killed her former husband, and dethroned them, all the secrets of the future that came to her in waves of sight, of information from past and present. That she didn’t always summon, but they washed over her like icy water and left like a haunting song.

 

But for all her omnipotent knowledge, Almaty’s old Queen will never know why Jean-Jaques Leroy gave in so easily, when it came to the crunch. She hopes- maybe naively- that it was because he had realized he’d been terrible person, and had accepted the punishment fate divined for him. But he’ll never be able to tell her.

 

Or anyone, really. Unless her son had mercy, and freed him.

 

But that was Otabek’s decision to make.

 

Her wings are still cramped behind her back, hidden under layers of thick, stuffy cloak. They ache with all things weary- the dampness of the catacombs and the darkness she was kept in, and their want for the caress of the fresh winter breeze she’d been denied for all this time. Days and months tend to melt together, but the Queen guesses it’s been almost a year since she was imprisoned. A year since Almaty fell, and she was dragged back into the world she’d vowed to leave behind when she left Otabek’s father.

  
But maybe it was her own fault. She had, after all, told Otabek to come find her, if he ever had a time of need. And the boy and his horse had led Jean-Jaques _straight_ to where she’d hid, before ‘The Usurper’ and his contract- the childish fae that used to follow King Yakov- had killed him.

 

Yet, Her Highness knows that Otabek survived. Heck, he wouldn’t have been able to freeze Jean-Jaques otherwise. The day that her visions told her what had become of her son, she hadn’t cried, because she knew that he still had a story to tell. But if the Queen had tears to shed- were she able to shed them- she would’ve. Even for his temporary death.

 

She wonders briefly after the fairy who revived him. The fairy with a soldier’s eyes, and though they looked much older now than they did before, their eyes had always retained the same hallowed maturity.

 

Not like that other fairy King Yakov always had with them. The delightful teenager with platinum hair- the youngest of the two, if she could only guess by demeanour.

 

Leroy had let slip, actually, that the Fairy King themself was detained down here, with her. Out of several fae, but many had escaped long ago- this attack was the second. She’d heard, from whispers by the guards that strolled by in changing shifts, a little about them. And she ascertained that it was definitely not Yakov. A new fae, then, or one of their former charges.

  
The only clue she had was the warbling arietta that floated through the catacomb walls almost daily.

 

It hadn’t today. Not that she’d expected it to. But now, she could hear it in a whistle- and she listens, and it begins to draw closer and closer. The Queen stops. And she waits. Because it echoes, and it’s off-pitch enough to make a dog whine and a person’s toes curl.

 

To the right pair of ears, though, it sounds like love, and magic. And just a hint of nostalgia, and a vision comes to her:

_A folk legend around a sleepy town named… Hasetsu, and a raven-haired boy with big brown eyes that were blown open in shock at the crown on Viktor’s head, and a pair of giant golden wings unfurling from a robe at a hot springs_.

 

_Viktor’s hair is the color of the moon, and a brilliant silver._

_Silver._

  
Two feet come to a stop in front of her cell.

 

Leather booted, but cheaply so- their robes are human and crude, yet they become almost regal on this person’s frame and muscular, slender body. They jut a well-curved hip, winking in a friendly tone.

 

“My Lady.” They say. Suave and charming- but youthful, energetic, and of course, very recognisable.

 

Her heart skips a beat.

 

“ _Silver_.” The Queen gasps. The younger of King Yakov’s charges that she’d mentioned- they’d met at official courts, under the eyes of her ex-husband. A mere boy compared to her; he was like a nephew, more than anything.

 

“What are you… doing here?” The Queen breathes.

 

Silver laughs. The fairy looks different- to account for the ten years between their meeting- but it’s their eyes that remain the same, and they’re all that the Queen needs to recognize them in an instant.

 

And their hair, which is the color of the moon- hence their name.

 

Though she supposes that they’re now ‘Viktor’.

 

“What am I doing here? The same as you, of course.” Silver replies cheekily, and they sigh dramatically. “Just wasting away in a dungeon. But I think it’s time to go now, my lady.”

 

They offer up a hand to her- and to Her Highness’s surprise, it passes through the prison bars without a problem. The Queen’s eyes go wide- but she chuckles.

 

No barrier. Of course- how else? Clearly, this was planned. And she appreciates it. Rising, the Queen brushes off her robes, rolls her shoulders, and straightens the scarf around her head where it had come loose. She lets go of Silver’s hand as she does, and she speaks.

 

“I wasn’t aware people knew I was here.” She comments.

 

“Luckily I did.” Silver merely smiles. “Leroy liked to talk, you know, and he gossiped about you.”

 

“As he did with you… in a roundabout way. You _are_ Viktor, yes?” The Queen asks.

 

Viktor hums, and they gently place a finger to their own, thin lips, as if contemplating.

 

“King Viktor, actually.” They say, after a moment. “Although I’ve never been fussed with titles- but otherwise, yes. How did you know?”

 

“A vision.”

 

“Ah.” Viktor hums. “What kind?”  


“One of you, and a raven haired boy. He called your name.”

 

Viktor hears this, and beams. They throw their hands up delightedly, and the Queen sees the ring on their left ring finger glint.

 

“Really? That’s amazing!” Viktor gushes. “That boy is my husband, by the way. I’m sure Yuuri would love to meet you!”

 

The Queen giggles behind her own hand.  “I’m sure I’d love to meet him, too.” She says.

 

Viktor smiles- but then, they sober. Their hands drop, and they breathe a deep sigh into their chest.

 

“...It’s a shame for the circumstances of this, though.” They say.

 

The Queen tilts her head at Viktor’s melancholy, cryptic words. They become almost serious- not too much so, but enough for a palpable change in their tone, and the air’s very atmosphere here in the dungeon. As if to clarify for her confusion, Viktor says-

 

“There’s a problem I need your help with.”

 

Still vague. “Oh?” The Queen asks. “What sort?”

 

“An urgent one.“ Viktor replies, their tone urgent and brows unusually drawn.

 

“There’s someone here that I think you’d want to see.”

 

 

\---

 

 

“…Where’s Viktor?” Katsuki asks, voice trembling.

 

Christophe takes one look at the scene in the garden, and immediately walks away- they say nothing. Mila shakes her head, and chokes. Minami is confused, and Yuuri…

 

Yuuri just stands there, and asks for Viktor. Because his husband is of more concern, apparently, than the boy lying in front of him.

 

“ _Where’s Viktor_?” Katsuki says again, emphatically- he basically yells it, but Otabek wants nothing more than for him to leave, to give him his castle and his grief and let him be _alone_ , pathetically alone like he used to be and like he’s going to be now because _Yuri is gone._

 

Otabek supposes that the Halfling is asking out of concern for him- for Viktor. After all that’s happened to Yuri, what’s to ensure that King Viktor hasn’t met the same fate? But Otabek doesn’t get it. He kneels, crouched over Yuri, and he doesn’t _get_ how anyone could stand here think of anyone else but him. He’s the picture of peacefulness, and Otabek’s seen him sleep more than once and he looks just like that- asleep. Like he could wake up with a scowl at any moment.

 

So Otabek doesn’t reply to Yuuri Katsuki, because he’s selfish. He’s selfish in that he doesn’t want to tear his eyes away from Yuri, and selfish in that he wants someone to be angry at for this and that his mind picked him- for asking about _Viktor_ and not _Yuri_.

 

Of course, Katsuki automatically assumes the worst.

 

The Prince doesn’t turn around- not even once- but he can hear the man behind him breaking. Because Viktor isn’t here, and Yuuri thinks he’s dead, despite all prophecy, and even if he _weren’t_ dead he needs him- for comfort, in the way that lovers do. Otabek’s face is blank, and he’s totally, rationally calm. Calm, in the sense that there’s a tumbling grief hidden like a blanket underneath it.

 

He wishes he could have the luxury of screaming like Katsuki, but he doesn’t. The Halfling rambles, on and on, but Otabek doesn’t care enough to listen.

 

No one goes to comfort him.

 

No one goes to comfort Otabek. No one wants to look at each other, and they don’t, for a good, long while. And the lilies are a keeper of these kinds of secrets. Witnesses to grief, and they absorb the emotion into their roots, swaying. The night turns their petals the same, grey colour, and the purple of Yuri’s skin- another kind of lily- doesn’t fade. Like a permanent tattoo- but in the moonlight, it looks a little beautiful.

 

He’s going to catch a death of cold if he stays out here.

 

Otabek will, too, without his cloak. But he doesn’t mind it.

 

\---

  
The Prince hears a song. Like a bird’s call he forgotten, and a bell. Whispers with untouched bare feet, and maybe he’s hallucinating- but everything in that moment seems to slow to a stop.

 

People arrive behind him, and slowly- like realizing- Katsuki stops crying.

 

\---

 

 

Viktor doesn’t know if he’s done the right thing. Is _doing_ the right thing.

 

He already regrets not going back to see Yuuri first, but he’d known that once they were in each other’s embrace, they’d never want to let the other go. His love is proving that to him now- though somewhat oddly.

 

Yuuri’s face is stormy as he approaches.

 

Viktor opens his mouth to call for him- to sing sweet nothings to Yuuri, and he wants to whisper how much he missed him, his beautiful, talented, loving husband.

 

Instead, Yuuri slaps him, hard, in the face.

 

It’s the sweetest thing Viktor could ever ask for.

 

“Y-Yuuri!” he stutters.

 

“You’re an ass.” Yuuri shouts- and then, confusingly, he pulls Viktor into a hug. But that’s fine.

 

He’ll take it.

 

It’s like angry ‘I love you, I missed you’, kind of thing. It’s a ‘how dare you make me worry’.And it’s Yuuri, so it’s endearing.

 

Viktor wants nothing more than to hold him for the rest of the evening.

 

Except, things aren’t over yet.

 

Viktor knows this- and yet, he kisses Yuuri’s forehead as they embrace, the Halfling’s head buried in his chest. And when Yuuri shoulder’s shake, Viktor know’s he’s begun to cry. Viktor cries with him.

 

It takes a lot to make Viktor cry.

 

Yuuri Katsuki is a lot.

 

Caught up in the arms of his husband- his wonderful, beautiful Yuuri- Viktor is thankful when, without being prompted, Her Highness already knows what she needs to do. No introductions necessary- with a solemn nod, she steps out from the shadows.

 

And Viktor holds onto Yuuri’s trembling form just a little bit tighter, as he watches her.

 

“…Otabek.” the Queen, quietly, says.

 

Prince Otabek sits back on his knees by the sapling tree. He’s consumed- and not even his mother’s voice convinces him to turn around.

 

“Otabek-“ she tries again “my son…”

 

And though he doesn’t visibly react, Otabek gathers the courage in his shoulders to whisper back.

 

“…I hear you.” He says.

 

The wind murmurs, and Otabek holds his hands in his lap. The Halfling Prince hangs his head. He speaks privately, in an intimate voice- as if Viktor and Yuuri weren’t even there. And they probably shouldn’t be, but neither of them are willing to make a move to leave- Yuuri keeps face buried, absorbing the protection of Viktor’s broad, sharp shoulders.

 

“You remember me.” The Queen says dully- unsurprised, but as pleased as she can be. Her son- Otabek- nods to her.

 

Still. His mother sighs in relief, and a little of something else. And she says-

 

“I wish we didn’t have to reunite like this.”

 

Prince Otabek, without making a single sound, agrees.

 

As crisp as the sour night air, the Queen runs a hand over the scarf covering her brown-black locks. She looks at Yuri- his tiny form almost blending into the sapling’s roots, now, and the garden as a whole. His skin as white as the lilies, his hair as golden as the pollen that fell from them in the springtime. A spring that would never come, for him. Not if he stayed like this.

 

“Do you love him?” Otabek’s mother asks.

 

It’s sudden. And for anyone who knew Otabek, they’d be able to tell you the answer is, of course, ‘yes’. But Viktor doesn’t know him, and neither does she. So her son replies, clear and truthful- if not in a way that would make Yuri cringe, were he to hear it.

 

“Always.” Otabek says.

 

...Well, ok. Yuri might’ve found it sweet. Who knows?

 

Viktor definitely doesn’t.

 

The Queen smiles ruefully. An old, sad smile, like she’s seen everything there is to see and knows there’s nothing left. A step forward, and hesitantly- as if wondering if she has the right- she places a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder. Otabek’s shoulder. They look so, so alike.

 

“You know…” she says- her son’s shoulders tremble. “your father never named me.”

 

The Queen waits. She waits, and eventually, she gets what she desires. Otabek finally turns, to look up at her face- his own like a calm, river’s stone, tide-swept and wet. Hers a sterile pond, with no more ripples.

 

“…Didn’t he?” The Prince asks, curiously.

 

“No.” The Queen replies. “He didn’t.”

 

And then, she smiles again- sweeter, because she means it.

 

“…But you did.”

 

Otabek seems to think about. His eyes still devoid of life, but slowly coming back to colour.

 

“What… did I call you, then?” he asks her. And in true fashion, the Queen spares no hesitation. Her eyes crinkle with melancholy- but underneath it, with joy. A pure, unconditional love for the young man in front of her.

 

Her kind, beautiful, adult son.

 

“You called me mother.” She says.

 

And she says it with an overflow of pride.

 

Viktor watches as the Prince’s heart constricts, and the King squeezes Yuuri’s hand for the sight of it. His husband’s hand- and his former pupils, but he feels a similar pride for the man he holds next to him. He empathises with Her Majesty, and Otabek.

 

It’s what he’d define as having someone to call ‘Family’.

 

So… for as much as Viktor cherishes Yuri- his _Kotenok_ \- he has to wonder.

 

Are they doing the right thing?

 

Because Viktor doesn’t want to feel guilty about this. He doesn’t want to hurt Prince Otabek _more_ than the boy’s heart has already been shattered into tiny, unfixable pieces. The Fairy King really, _really_ doesn’t want to trade family for family.

 

But- as it seems to be with all these thing-

 

It ends up as Otabek’s choice.

 

“Your Highness,” Viktor calls to him.

 

He’s loathe to interrupt the moment, but Otabek is kind enough to give him the time of day. He swallows.

 

“She… the Queen.” Viktor says. “You know what she’s asking you, right? You know what she’s willing to do, to...”

 

Otabek nods. He does.

 

Viktor hears the Prince inhale, though- his eyes dart to his mother, then back, in what looks like a mild kind of fear. But she smiles at him reassuringly at him- the hand on his shoulder squeezing tight.

 

“I’ve lived long enough, dear.” Her Highness says softly. “It’s ok, it’s ok.”

 

“That’s what Yuri said.” Otabek whispers blankly. “But in the end, he didn’t want...”

 

Though he trails off, the Queen seems to consider him. And she hums- a finger to her lips. _Ah, she stole that from me,_ Viktor thinks. But intentionally so, because she smiles- and she winks at Viktor. An inside joke, or an intentional tease.

 

“How old was he- Yuri?” Her Highness asks. Viktor had told her his name beforehand.

 

“Six-hundred and sixty-eight.” Otabek replies immediately. And he adds, dazed- “Older than… older than King Viktor.”

 

Which makes Viktor gasp. He’s astounded- and Yuuri is, too, because neither of them knew this! His husband whispers harshly from his side.

 

“Viktor! How old are _you_?” Yuuri says.

 

Despite, Viktor shushes him quietly. They both turn their attention, now, back to the Queen.

 

Where her son had replied with Yuri’s age, she’d grinned- and then, curiously, she’d laughed! Long and loud, sweet bells pouring from her ruddy lips. An they’re lovely, but neither Viktor nor Otabek and Yuuri have any clue what she’s laughing for.

 

Wiping an eye, the Queen continues to giggle.

 

“Sixty-eight, huh?“ she jokes. “Well, then. It’d be _criminal_ of me not to help him reach sixty-nine, yeah?”

 

Otabek and Yuuri simultaneously splutter.

 

But Viktor laughs. And then eventually, Otabek laughs too. The genuine kind, along with his mother- where he holds his sides, and it’s so incredibly _odd_ to see amusement on a face as stoic as his. Viktor stifles a snort, though Yuuri doesn’t even _try_. He sounds like a pig. A cute little pig, except the pig is laughing at an contextually inappropriate sex joke made by the _Queen of Almaty_ , of all fucking things.

 

It’s terrible. And it takes a while for the four of them to calm down.

 

“Yuri- Yuri would have… appreciated that.” Otabek says.

 

Covering the last of his chuckles, he sobers the mood a little just by bringing the boy up. It’s not enough to dampen everything, though. His mother beams- and though it’s sad at the edges, there’s not a trace of regret to it.

 

“I hope he does.” She says. And she winks.

 

“You can tell him once I wake him up.”

 

Otabek sighs.

 

And quietly- acceptingly- he hums in agreeance. Then he smiles, too- bites his lip a little, and finally, he stands up. Abandoning his seat in front of Yuri in order to rise to his full height.

 

“…Thank you, mother.” He says.

 

And then, finally- “I’m sorry.”- before he pulls her into a hug.

 

In his arms, his mother isn’t hesitant to smile back at him.

 

Though they might have spent years apart, she doesn’t regret any of them- at least, anymore. Because she sees that her life, to the very end, was fulfilling- her choice to leave Almaty’s throne and Otabek’s father a good one. And she sees what a beautiful person he’s become- _Her son!-_ because of it. Despite all his hardship, he’s become a person capable of love.

 

It completes her to know that he has no regrets, either.

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The Queen says.

 

“I know.” Otabek murmurs. “I know.”

 

And he adds. “I’m still sorry, anyway.”

 

The Queen pinches his cheek and laughs.

 

“Stop apologizing.”

 

 

From the beginning, it was his mother’s bells he was looking for.

 

 

\---

 

 

There’s something about love. In all of its different forms.

 

Familial, playful, sexual- and call it what you will, but it’s important. It’s so integral- love- to our experience of living, that all our lives become empty without it. A purpose is just a purpose without people to share it with.

 

So it’s not so terrible, then, for a fairy to become a human, if it means learning to love.

 

It’s not terrible to lose love, if that means that for a short time, you were able to feel it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI YES THERE'S AN EPILOGUE COMING SOON
> 
> But this is the 'technical' final chapter. you might be able to guess what happens in the future, but if you can't, the epilogue will show it. And i'm posting this on the last day of Otayuri week 2017. For the prompt "Fantasy/Soulmates", and i think it fits the first one more than the other, but. shrug.
> 
> A little note about Otabek's mom- i always hc her as an arabic muslim? i don't know why, but she's wearing a headscarf in this fic for that reason. if you don't like that, feel free to ignore it i guess.
> 
> i wanna extend a HUGE. HUUUUUGE thank you to everyone who read this story. and to everyone who commented, where you're a regular or just on a chapter you really liked! this was my first ever multi-chapter fic, and i learnt so, so much writing it. my goal was to become a better writer, and i really think i have- and i love you guys for sticking with me through it.
> 
> a last shoutout goes to the lovely @mariosbrother, who did pixel art of my designs for this fic:  
> http://goombella123.tumblr.com/post/157588286304/mariosbrother-i-made-some-pixel-art-based-on
> 
> (and an extra shoutout to being a fuckin awesome boyfriend?? who supports me and my art consistantly?? fuck i love you. you're the best.)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you, once again, for reading! And don't go anywhere- I promise, there's always more.


	18. Epilogue

 

“Is it your ninth birthday, or your tenth?”

 

Otabek leans his back against the balcony railing- nonchalant, though it’s really no way for a King to behave only meters from his own throne room. But he’s not a typical king, really.

 

Nor is his sister a typical princess.

 

“Ninth, I think.” She replies- her voice startlingly mature for such a small-looking girl, as it always has been. From what he remembers, anyway- he’s known her from the age of six, and her eyes have always held a wisdom that no child’s ever should. But so had Otabek’s, at her age. It’s why they got along.

 

The King quietly hums.

 

“Your real ninth birthday has passed, though.” He muses. “Would you not want to skip ahead?”

 

The Princess looks up at him- and she laughs. A full laugh, since ‘giggle’ wouldn’t be the right word for her. She’s too genuine, far too thoughtful to merely ‘giggle’ like some kind of airheaded, naïve little child. She is anything _but_ naïve, or a child, or little. Not physically, anyway.

 

The Princess’s face has far more elasticity than Otabek’s, and her eyebrows raise at the same time her mouth pulls into a loose, open grin.

 

“I’m no fool.” She says, slightly accusatory. “I have no desire to become an adult so soon.”

 

“You sure you aren’t one already?” Otabek jokes.

 

His sister pokes out her tongue.

 

She takes no offence to it- and the atmosphere out here is nice, today. Very nice- too much so to be spoiled by anything. A spring day in Almaty, a year of recovery. And it’s calm, for once. Though his sister may be his only family left, Otabek finds that, at the very least, he’s content with his situation. A calm breeze sweeps away the clouds of winter, like a fairytale.

 

 

He’d lost a lot, not too long ago, to achieve this kind of peace.

 

When Yuri had died, all magic related to him was reversed. And it was his hands that had frozen Almaty’s Princess- so when his life had snuffed out, hers had begun anew. Though Otabek is sure that Yuri would have been more than happy to simply unfreeze her, were he still living. But he hadn’t been, so he didn’t. Obviously.

 

It’s funny how these things worked out anyway.

 

JJ was no longer a permanent fixture of the throne room, frozen in his all his false glory. He was, however, a permanent fixture of the dungeon. Otabek- with the help of King Viktor and Chris’s vine-green tendrils, had managed to drag the frozen man into the catacombs. Otabek had reasoned- it’d be a lot easier to think on one’s actions and their consequences, when one was not trapped in a block of ice.

 

In JJ’s place, there were pots of flowers. Otabek’s sister had brought up a couple from various places in Almaty, or otherwise- and arranged them with fervour. He was re-learning their names, too. Carnations, tulips, lavenders- lavenders smell nice, Otabek thinks, and they’re hardy. Birds of Paradise were pretty, too, though they were unsuited for Almaty’s year-long, cold climate. The King was told they preferred the tropics, and the ones he was given quickly wilted away as if to prove it. He liked their fiery appearance, though. They were the kind of flower to wield a knife, and run wild through the trees barefoot. A natural, untamed spirit- Otabek captured their likeness in poetry days before they died. Their soul forever etched into the pages of his private journal, in pen and ink.

 

Otabek and his sister kept roses, as well. Blue and Red, courtesy of the Fair Realm’s honeymooning kings as a sort of coronation gift. Viktor had proudly presented them as a ‘miracle of nature’, since a rose coloured blue did not exist outside of legend. Katsuki had slyly admitted that his husband had dip-dyed them, since Christoph had showed them both how plants absorbed coloured water. Otabek had politely not laughed- instead, he’d mused that it was rather pointless to destroy one flower just to create another.

 

Which Viktor had apparently been told, and ignored. By Katsuki, of course, and the Fairy King’s husband found a smug satisfaction in being right.

 

King Viktor found satisfaction in seeing his husband smile, so, again- it worked out anyway.  


Otabek liked the roses. Even if they were dip-dyed, they smelled sweet. By any other name, right? That’s what he thinks. Despite it all, the matching blooms stood to be the King’s second favourite kind of flower.

 

Next to the Lilies, of course.

 

White lilies. From his personal garden, and those took pride and centre, sitting in a pot on the throne itself like a token.

 

Otabek spends more time up here, these days, overlooking his kingdom a few steps away from the throne. The throne that he occupies, officially, but where only flowers sit. He passes his days on the balcony more than he does in the lily garden he used to use to hide away in. He likes being able to watch everything go round- seeing restorations being done, Almaty recovering. It’s like his own efforts are being rewarded subtly. His own sacrifices acknowledged, and the people make up for what he’s lost.

 

And, occasionally, someone will wave to him. Because Otabek, for once in his life, is liked by people. Surprisingly- or not-so-surprisingly, depending on who you ask- Otabek is a much better King than he ever was a Prince.

 

He has his sister to thank for a lot of that. To thank for the peace they have now, besides his own gruelling efforts. The Princess’s mother- Otabek’s stepmother, for whom he never talked to - had trained his sister from an incredibly young age to deal with courts and nobles, as well as financial affairs and the like. For all her help- and her support and understanding- Otabek can say that he genuinely loves and appreciates her. Or rather- he always did, and is just remembering the depth of it. The circumstances are complicated, and Otabek snaps out of his reverie to shake it.

 

His sister had ducked inside for something without telling him as he’d zoned out, staring across the horizon of his kingdom. She silently walks back outside with a swagger in her step, a confidant saunter in her hips as she patters along the tile barefoot, as you do- and she smirks.

 

“Are you thinking, Beka?” she asks, leaning forwards against the railing. Or rather, she does initially- after observing Otabek, she switches to rest on her back. Elbows prop against the railing in a thuggish manner, trying to imitate him- and she barely even reaches the top of the balcony in the first place.

 

It looks ridiculous. She’s mildly satisfied when she peaks on her tippy-toes.

 

“You realize just how dumb you look, right?” Otabek snorts at her.

 

Squawking indignantly, the Princess knocks her jaw open- gasping in shock and horror as she looks up at her older brother.

 

“Beka!” she cries, scandalized. “That’s so mean!”.  And Otabek merely laughs, bells deep and haughty.

 

“I know.” He says, a little sheepish. “But it’s cute to tease. _You’re_ cute to tease.”

 

“…You bet your _ass_ I’m cute.” His sister grumbles, flattening back onto her heels and folding her arms with a sour pout.

 

Otabek’s laughter fades, then. A stern look of warning- he tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly at her.

 

“Don’t swear.” He chastises. “You know how I feel about proper manners.”

 

His sister rolls her eyes.

 

“So it’s alright if _Yuri_ does it, then?” she tests him. “And not me?”

 

Otabek doesn’t reply to that. To his sister’s entertainment, it seems- like his silence was challenge, and she’s taking him up on it. Her tongue darts out in thought from her snarky smile- small and sly and _far_ too peculiar for her.

 

“ _You’re_ just biased.” She accuses Otabek.

 

“I’m not biased.”

 

“You love Yuri, so he gets away with everything.”

 

“One of those two things is debatable.” Otabek smirks cheekily. “You know- he tried to kidnap me _several times_ this week.”

 

His sister tilts her head, popping a hip out with the question.

 

“Oh?” she says.

 

Otabek scoffs- rocking back on his heels, he leans down to look the princess square in the eyes. Her eyes, that are a deep black-brown with hints of green that _definitely_ shouldn’t be there.

 

“Well.” The King begins, voice lowered and edging on dirty- you could really only call it a purr. “My Yura tried to disguise himself as the _Princess of Almaty_ , once, to infiltrate the castle.”

 

The Princess’s look hoods over.

 

“Did he now?” she says, very slowly. Her voice equally low and teasing, and it’s not her own. It hasn’t been for a few minutes now, and Otabek thinks two things:

 

One. He’s gotten good with transfiguration magic, hasn’t he? Chrisophe has been teaching him well, making up for lost time in his tutoring while Viktor and Katsuki were away.

 

And, two.

 

 _Got you_ , _Yuri_.

 

Otabek smiles widely.

 

“Take off your hood.” He says.  


So Yuri does.

 

His disguise fades with a shimmer- magic dissipating as he returns to his regular form. His fingers hesitantly brush golden strands from his face as he groans- annoyed and defeated. The image of Otabek’s sister melts, and as pushes his hood down, Yuri stands relatively tall again-  a few centimetres higher than Otabek, at least. Nowhere near his sister’s height, which was an impressive spell.

 

It’s enough that Otabek has to tilt his chin up, to look his fairy in the eyes.

 

The past year, after Almaty was retaken, they’d been mostly apart. Out of necessity- the city didn’t fall it a day, and it certainly wasn’t going to be rebuilt in one, either. In that time, Yuri had grown in many ways than just his magic power, or his height.

 

For starters- his hair.

 

It reached down his mid-back now. Braided with flowers and crystals, and it’s all very fae-like. His robes are different, too. Understandably- Katsuki Mari’s garments, while serving a purpose, were not exactly glamourous. What he wears now is, though- the silk and cotton rustles for every subtle movement Yuri makes, every puff of wind coming in on the balcony. It’s a more practical outfit than Viktor’s shirtless attire- but it still holds an air of regality about it, of fairy culture. The outfit is akin to a satin riding hood that fell like a waterfall to cover his back- and the hood part folded down to reveal his sighing face. Yuri’s front is covered by a modest shirt that still rides down on the collars, showing both his shoulders in a way that borders on intimate, and the skin there is still a focal point for almost all of Otabek’s attention. As it always has been.

 

The King gulps.

 

“You realize… trying to flirt with me while you look like my sister is a _terrible_ idea.”

 

Otabek tries to tear his eyes away. He doesn’t. He watches Yuri blow away a strand of hair, almost uncaring.

 

“Whatever works.” he shrugs.

 

“My point is that it _doesn’t_ work-” Otabek tries to start. But then he shakes his head. It has the double effect of clearing his consciousness of Yuri’s skin, Yuri’s look- and he wills himself to move on to a different train of thought.

 

“Nevermind.” He mutters. “You know- I didn’t even realize you two had switched places earlier.” Otabek says. He means it as a compliment. Yuri takes it as such, though lightly.

 

“Sweet.” He says. A flippant reply, and he’s close to stifling a yawn, actually.

 

But the smirk on his face tells Otabek otherwise. He’s trying to get him riled up.

 

“What gave me away?”

 

“Well. My sister _definitely_ doesn’t give me bedroom eyes.” Otabek says calmly.

 

“I’d fucking hope so!”  Yuri cries.

 

“- _And_ she doesn’t swear.” Otabek adds. Yuri takes one look at him. A long, hard look- disbelieving- and then, the fairy snorts. Their posture slackens, and they lose their tight demeanour. It’s… nice. Yuri can loosen up around Otabek. And that’s his favourite kind of Yuri- the one that acts without pretense.

 

“You two are both goddamn prudes.” He snorts.

 

“I prefer ‘well educated and polite’, but- hey.” Otabek shrugs. A smile that reaches his eyes- and he purposely echoes Yuri’s words from before.

 

“Whatever works, right?”

 

 

\---

 

“Are you actually planning on kidnapping me?”

 

“Maybe.” Yuri says. He’s walking- and with each bare footstep, there’s an echo in the silence, and he frowns. “…Yes.”

 

Otabek chuckles at the response. Though it’s rueful, and followed up by a hefty sigh he can’t help.

 

“We both know that’s a bad idea. We can’t just go… running off, anymore.”

 

Not when they both had kingdoms to rule. Not when they were more than just a traveller left for dead and a cranky fairy. They had no time for adventure- too much keeping them pegged to the ground.

 

But at least, they had this. Nice moments together, in the solitude of a castle that was for Otabek’s family alone. Yuri walking out of the throne room, and casually slinging an arm over Otabek’s shoulder to pull him along like they best friends, and chattering in his ear. And the eventual, of Otabek slipping his hand into Yuri’s while the fairy did his thing, like they were lovers.

 

And they look at each other like they’re in _love_ \- which really, is a combination of both. And it’s them. It’s only them.

 

“ _Fine_.” Yuri rolls his eyes, conceding. “No kidnappings. Yet. But I _do_ have something to show you.” He says.

 

“Keep it family-friendly, please.” Otabek requests, but Yuri laughs. Knowing him, he wants the opposite.

 

“I make no promises.”

 

\---

 

‘Family-friendly’, as it turns out, involves a lot flirting. Of the physical kind, mostly- teasing touches, and looks the linger a little too long. Looks that _reek_ with Yuri’s year long, pent-up frustration of being apart from Otabek. Even a total stranger could read between the lines. The tension between them hangs over the air they breathe, following them as they wander through the empty castle.

 

The walk from the throne room leads them both to Otabek’s chambers, and that’s obvious enough as it is. Except it wasn’t Otabek’s current bedroom. And he knows this place exists, but he hadn’t thought to find it for the time that he’d spent here. Hadn’t wanted to.

 

So Yuri led him. Without knowing. And swinging open the old, brass door, Otabek sighs.

 

“…Yura. Really?”

To put it this way- it’s kind of a boner killer to ‘do it’ in your childhood bed.

 

“Yes, really!” Yuri grumbles loudly- Otabek pointedly refuses to look at him, because this is ridiculous.

 

To be fair- he’d stayed here as a teenager, too. And it’s not like he and Yuri hadn’t done… _less-than-savoury_ things here before. _Those_ were some interesting memories. Even more interesting that it was Otabek’s sister that had to remind him of them.

 

The King supresses a shudder. Mostly on her behalf, though.

 

Mostly.

 

Otabek roams a little around the place. It’s a small-ish room, but he’d call it cosy rather than cramped. A hand wanders over every untouched surface it meets, and lingers over the wooden bedframe. The curtains, the carpet, the closet where they’d hid the day the executions started, and Yuri had to escape from the guards.

 

“Did we _really_ have our first kiss in a closet?” Otabek asks.

 

Yuri shrugs.

 

“Technically, I was half-hanging outta the closet, and you were just kinda… standing there. It’s only your first if you want it to be.” He says quickly- he crosses his arms over his stomach, and looks away. “I mean- that kiss in the garden was a _lot_ more romantic.”

 

“Except I prefaced it by saying, ‘you suck’.” Otabek cringes.

 

“…That’s ok.” Yuri smiles, only a little embarrassed. “You suck, too.”

 

It’d been two years since Otabek died. A year since Yuri did, and a year since Otabek’s mother brought him back to life.

 

The thought of that suddenly stings. Like reaching for a flower, to accidentally clutch a thorn. Not enough to bleed, but…

 

It catches up with him.

 

“Hey.” Yuri frowns, all of sudden. “Did I… what’s wrong, Beka?” he says.

 

Otabek didn’t realize he’d teared up. Still holding the bedpost, he looks up- two wet drops fall right onto the crisp, untouched, satin sheets. Untouched since the day he’d ran away.

 

“I’m… I’m ok.” Otabek says. He swallows, too, for good measure. “I’m just…  thinking. About my mother.” He clarifies.

 

Yuri’s eyes widen a little at that. But he doesn’t do anything but hum thoughtfully, feet shuffling along the ground. His leopard-print boots make nervous friction with the carpet.

 

“Do you want to see her?” the fairy whispers.

 

A voice quiet and hesitant, like the first flakes of snow to fall.

 

“Your mother. Do you want-”

 

“-Now?”  


“Yeah, now.” Yuri mumbles. He’s still… he’s still looking away. A hand rests on his exposed shoulder, ready to pull at the remaining fabric should Otabek ask. But he’s worried of what he’ll think. Of how Otabek will react to… this. Whatever it is.

 

“It’s… I wanted to show you.” Yuri says. “But if you don’t want to see- if it upsets you, I…”

 

Otabek answers by crossing the space in the room.

 

Not that there is much- not when it involves Yuri, and both are stubborn enough to be together in every way they know how. Even through war, through amnesia, and they conquered _death itself._ He’s on Yuri as fast as he can, and the King slides his hands up the fairy’s sides.

 

Like he’d always fantasized about doing, and Yuri shivers. They come to rest over the hands on Yuri’s shoulders, waiting.

 

“...Of course I want to see, Yura” Otabek whispers. But he gets why he’d be nervous. There’s a whole new world here- an etiquette Otabek doesn’t know how to observe, a delicacy to the mood, to the act and to Yuri himself. It’s new. It’s frightening. But it’s…

 

Yuri smiles. He doesn’t say another word- doesn’t dare to, in the charged, intimate silence. Instead, he guides Otabek’s hand down. Further down- pulling of his robes all the way, leaving him exposed to the stagnant air in the King’s old bedroom. And as his shirt falls to the ground, he turns around. He turns, and with but a glimpse, the King instantly reacts.

 

His wings are beautiful that Otabek almost cries.

 

Because they’re _hers_. His mother’s wings. And now, they’re a part of Yuri.

 

Delicate silver, dancing in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his bedroom window. And the veins of it- running the patterns of snowflakes, like magic and like curling of fire, all things _Yuri_ \- breathes black, like little rivers of dark, passionate blood snaking though the gossamer seams. They pulsate, almost, as Yuri stretches them. The King can only watch in rapture where they meet his shoulder blades, and melt seamlessly into Yuri’s skin. The way his wings twitch as they lightly flutter- just like Otabek’s heart.

 

The way that under his stare, Yuri quivers- just like Otabek’s eyes. And a lump, silently, forms in his throat.

 

“If you cry-“ Yuri threatens. But he’s a second too late.

 

Otabek is crying. He can’t fucking stop him. _Fuck you_ if you try.

 

…Otabek says that that last bit out loud, in a teary voice that sends Yuri into laughter. He coos, and calls for Otabek to comfort. And the King’s obliges, all too willingly, as Yuri pulls him in. He reaches out, turning around to hold Otabek’s head right to his beating chest, where he can hear his heart. _Their hearts_ , together. The proof of life that was so strong, and yet, so delicate at the same time.

 

“I’m gonna assume you like my wings.” Yuri chuckles lightly.

 

Otabek feels… a lot of things about his wings. Things he can’t describe, but he licks his lips and says “I do.”, anyway. Cause he doesn’t hate them. He definitely thinks they’re beautiful, but everything about Yuri is beautiful regardless. God, Otabek has been in love with Yuri for _ages_.

 

“Do you love _them_ , though?” Yuri asks.

 

 _Yes_.

 

Because they’re _her_ , and they’re Yuri all in one. Add on top of that his sister, and the blue and red roses in the throne room- then this castle he lives and breathes in, and the memories in every tile under his feet. Every breath, every wave of the village people- all of it-

 

Well. It’s almost like Otabek has family.

 

And that’s all he ever wanted.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considering i uploaded this story a little after vitya's bday, it seems fitting to finish on yuri's.
> 
> which- happy birthday, yurio!! your gift is me not killing you in this fic!
> 
> it's late and im fuckin exhausted, so there might be some things i go back and add. and i'm super not done with the universe (note: the 'series' button right underneath here)
> 
> but all that aside, this is the end. thank you- really. THANK YOU- so much for everything.
> 
> keep in touch with me on tumblr or twitter as @Goombella123


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